The Library
by astonmartin177
Summary: Of all the places in the world for Draco Malfoy to run into Hermione Granger, of course it would be a bloody library. But a muggle university library in Australia? Modern day, 5 years post battle of Hogwarts. Eventual Dramione.
1. Introduction to Neurophysiology

**This was meant to be a one shot, but spiraled out into a larger story. Hope you enjoy, please review but be kind, I'm writing to amuse myself while I have a broken leg. Ta! xx**

 **Rated M for swearing and eventual sexiness.**

* * *

Of all the places in the world, of course it would be a bloody library.

"Malfoy?!"

Draco spun around in shock, only for his elbow to collide with the nose of-

"Granger?!" he hissed, silver eyes widening in surprise.

"Yes, you git," she hissed back at him, one hand covering her nose while she cradled a stack of books in the other arm, "You elbowed me in the face!" Her eyes narrowed and she pulled her hand away. It was red.

Draco cursed, "Shit, I'm sorry Granger. It was an accident. You surprised me."

She glared at him mutinously. Draco glanced around and saw that they had attracted the attention of a few other students.

"C'mon," he muttered, grabbing her arm and her books, "Let's get out of here and clean you up."

He steered her through the shelves towards the bathrooms and thankfully she didn't protest.

"I'll hold your books for you, you just duck in and clean up, Granger." She eyed him suspiciously, still holding her nose. He rolled his eyes, "Merlin, I'm not going to steal your bloody library books, Granger." She shot him a parting glare, and then disappeared into the ladies room.

Draco leant back against a nearby table and absently looked over the titles she had gathered. _Medical physiology_ , _Neuroanatomy and physiology, Advanced Biochemistry…_ Interesting choices. He ran a hand through his pale blonde hair in frustration. Bodily harm to one of the Golden Trio was not on his to do list for today. And just what were the chances of bumping into Granger in a library? Admittedly high. A muggle university library in Australia? The odds would have to be astronomical.

Draco Malfoy did not believe in coincidences.

His face set into a cool, impassive mask, though his eyes hardened with cold fury, and waited.

She emerged from the bathroom, with her nose still looking bruised and slightly swollen.

"Brightest witch of her age forget how to cast episkey?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm practising," she informed him primly.

"Practising what?"

"Muggle medicine. Goodbye, Malfoy." She scooped her textbooks off the table and turned to walk away.

"Not so fast," he growled, grabbing her upper arm and whirling her to face him. "You expect me to believe that you just _happened_ to be here, in Australia, exactly where I was?"

"I could ask the same of you, Malfoy," she snapped. "Aren't you under Ministry probation? How exactly did you leave the country?"

"I retreated to the colonies, isn't that the done thing when one is in disgrace?" He sneered.

"Maybe, but it doesn't explain why you're in a muggle university library!" She retorted, drawing herself to her full height. Which was disappointingly at least half a foot shorter than Draco's.

"I could ask the same of you, Granger," he mimicked, "Surely keeping an eye on an ex-Death Eater is a bit below your pay grade? Aren't you supposed to be doing some stuffy Ministry job, toiling away for house elves which everyone indulges because you're the bloody Golden Trio, while faithfully popping out Weaselbee's babies?" This time, it was Hermione's hand that cracked across Draco's face.

"How dare you," she hissed in a dangerous voice that crackled with magic, "I'm not here to bloody spy on you, you git. But I've half a mind to tell Harry that you're here and that you _broke my nose!_ " Hermione caught the flicker that passed over his face before setting back into his cool, aristocratic smirk.

"It was hardly broken, Granger," Malfoy drawled, "I _accidentally_ elbowed you, you _purposely_ slapped me. How 'bout we call it a draw and leave it at that?"

For a moment they just stared at each other in tense silence, their magical auras thrumming and competing with each other. Surprisingly, it was Malfoy who swallowed his pride and broke first.

"You're really not here to check on my parole?" he asked her quietly, his silver eyes scrutinising every inch of her face.

"No, Malfoy, I'm not," she sighed, her magic settling as all the fight went out of her. This almost alarmed Draco as much as the thought of her contacting the Ministry. The famous Gryffindor princess looked tired and thin, with dark circles under her eyes that he didn't remember from school. She looked almost like she did during the war. "And I'm not going to tell anyone that I saw you either, so you can relax." There was another awkward moment of silence while the two stared at each other.

"Well, I've got lots to do so I'd best be getting going. Bye, Malfoy," she murmured and made her way past Draco. He watched her walk away for a minute before, for reasons completely unknown to him, he called out to her.

"Granger, would you like to get a coffee?"

* * *

They sat in one of the campus cafes, she'd ordered a double shot espresso and not to be outdone, Draco had as well. After the first sip, he grimaced and promptly added three sugars. She laughed which, he had to admit, was not a wholly unpleasant sound.

"Not a fan of coffee?"

"Still classically British and prefer tea to be honest," he admitted. "Although I do appreciate the caffeine boost."

"I've become something of a caffeine addict," she confessed, "Can't really use a timeturner anymore and I have a lot of late nights studying."

"Anymore? When have you used a timeturner?" He raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"Oh, third year," she said offhandedly as she played with one of the sugar sachets, "I wanted to do all the subjects on offer, but of course they clashed, so I used the timeturner to be able to go to everything and stay on top of coursework."

"That is undoubtedly the swottiest use for a timeturner in the history of timeturners," he smirked.

"Oh, I did use it to rescue Buckbeak from execution to save Harry and Sirius Black from the dementors and a werewolf in the Forbidden Forest and then to break Sirius out of the tower after he was captured," she remarked mildly, taking a sip of her coffee.

Draco stared at her. "Merlin, Granger," he said, feeling impressed, "I didn't know it was you who broke Black out of Hogwarts."

"Yes, well Harry was the one who cast the Patronus charm who saved us so-"

"And he would have undoubtedly been dead long before without you. You were always the brains of the operation."

Hermione looked down at the table, her cheeks tinged pink, unused to receiving compliments from her former enemy. Draco took the opportunity to study her. Despite her tired appearance, she was really quite lovely. Her hair had settled a little into thick chocolatey curls, framing her petite face. She had a light dusting of her freckles across her nose and cheeks, a nose which still looked a bit tender.

"Merlin, Granger, can you fix your nose? You're making me feel bad." She rolled her eyes, but discreetly murmured an episkey anyway.

"Why were you practising muggle medicine in the first place?" He cocked his head to the side in askance.

"I'm actually studying medicine at the moment," she explained, "Good to practise when the opportunity arises."

"Why are you doing muggle medicine though? Why not become a healer at St Mungos?"

"I think that muggle medicine has a _lot_ to offer that wizarding medicine overlooks," she narrowed her eyebrows, challenging him to say something about the superiority of magic.

Draco wisely practised the Slytherin art of self-preservation and did not rise to that particular dare.

"Okay… but why Australia?"

Hermione sighed. "Personal reasons," she said evasively. When he raised his eyebrows, she continued, "I needed to get away from everything. After the war, I found it hard to go back to… well normal I guess."

Draco nodded quietly. He understood that feeling perfectly. The silence was starting to feel heavy so he changed the subject.

"Well," he leaned forward conspiratorially, "I ran away."

"How very unlike you, Malfoy. Pray what tell, after Lord Voldemort, could be terrifying enough to drive Draco Malfoy from Britain?"

He ignored that little barb, although he winced internally. "Arranged marriage," he replied.

"So? Isn't that what all the Pureblood families do?" Hermione raised her eyebrow.

"Yeah, but it was going to be Pans. I'd rather off myself than be married to her." Draco whined, clutching his heart dramatically. "Besides, I'm in the prime of my life. I'm supposed to be drinking and shagging my way around the world before settling down."

Hermione snorted. "So that's what you fill your time with? Drinking and shagging?"

"Admirable pursuits as they may be, I do spend my time doing other things as well, Granger. I liked the weather so much I decided to stay here awhile, so I'm studying too."

"Oh?" Hermione's interest was piqued, "What?"

"Business," he replied, "And engineering. With a bit of chemistry." Granger looked mildly impressed.

"Not what you were expecting, Granger?" he teased. "I'm a man of many talents, you know." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Hermione snorted again, and then assessed Malfoy more closely. He _was_ handsome, she had to admit. He still had the same pale blonde hair and silvery eyes, but he had filled out a bit from school to become tall with lean muscle and a strong jaw line.

"Like what you see, Granger?" he leaned back in his chair and smirked.

Hermione flushed hotly to have been caught staring. "Little ferrety for my taste," she replied, wrinkling her nose.

"You dated the Weasel, but I'm too _rodent-y_ for you?

"Firstly, _rodent-y,_ really? Secondly, neither weasels nor ferrets are rodents, Malfoy. They're both from the Mustelidae family."

"Did you just imply that the Weaselbee and I are _related?_ "

"Well," Hermione mused, "You would be somewhere along the line. All you purebloods are cousins of some sort." Draco looked faintly outraged.

"So what are Scarhead and Weaselbee up to these days? Do I need to be on look out, lest I collide with Boy Wonder in the cafeteria?"

"No, Harry and Ron are still at home. They both got accepted into the Auror program of course, so they're really busy. You know, with training and what not." Hermione chewed on her bottom lip nervously.

"They don't support you being here, do they?"

Hermione looked at him sharply, "What makes you say that?"

"Typical Gryffindor, your emotions flick all over your face." Hermione looked away, uncomfortable. "So what happened between the Golden Trio, that you moved to the other side of the world, to study a muggle degree all by yourself?"

"Thanks for the coffee, but I need to get going for a lecture." She stood abruptly and grabbed her bag and stalked out the door.

"Granger, hey - Granger!" Draco called after her, but she didn't look back.

* * *

Hermione walked out of the anatomy labs, mentally running through her list of things to do for the day when she stopped dead. There was Malfoy, leaning nonchalantly against the wall looking every bit the poised aristocrat. He casually looked her up and down and smirked.

"Are you _stalking_ me?"

"Granger, you _wound_ me."

"You're stalking me."

"You flatter yourself, love."

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and continued walking. To her irritation, Malfoy followed her easily matching her steps with his long strides. Morganna curse her shortness.

"Why are you following me?" she snapped. He pulled to a stop in front of her, blocking her path.

"Granger, look. I'm sorry I upset you in the coffee shop the other day." She eyed him suspiciously. Since when did Malfoy apologise? "I hope it hasn't changed your mind about contacting the Ministry."

Ah. Selfish, cowardly self-preservation.

"Your secret hideout is safe, Malfoy," she said with exasperation. "I don't particularly care what you're doing, as long as you're not getting involved in anymore Death Eater or dark magic business."

"Yours too," he said with a wry smile. "I'd rather off myself than talk to Scarhead or Weaselbee." He actually had a rather nice face when he smiled, rather than sneered.

"But if I were being perfectly candid, I wouldn't mind talking to you again."

Hermione merely quirked an eyebrow.

"We're all the way on the other side of the world, Granger. It would be nice to be able to talk to a witch, and a British one at that."

"Even a filthy little mudblood?" she asked bluntly.

Draco winced. "I sort of hoped that we would avoid that topic of discussion."

"Sod off, Malfoy." She stalked past him.

"Granger, wait." He once again caught up and stopped in front of her. He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. "Look, I was a right shite. I'm sorry for all the awful things I've said and done to you over the years. But I don't believe in blood purity anymore, okay? It was part of the reason I left the Manor."

Hermione considered what he'd said. On the one hand, she was lonely and missing magical company. On the other, she had been tortured in his _fucking house_. _The house that he left_ , suggested a voice in her head. _What would Ron think?_

 _To hell with Ron._

"Okay, Malfoy. But if you're trying to scheme your way back into Ministry favour through me it's not going to work."

"I'm just looking for a drinking buddy," he told her seriously. Hermione shot him a sidelong glance. "I meant tea, woman. You wound me." Hermione laughed and proceeded to needle him about his double shot espresso disaster, which he vehemently protested, while they walked to her next class.


	2. Advancements in Biochemistry

She sat in the library, quietly summarising her physiology notes and carefully highlighting and colouring the neuronal pathway she was revising.

"Merlin," Draco remarked as he casually placed his books beside her. "I'm glad I'm not doing medicine. I had enough memorisation at Hogwarts, thank you very much. _If the tea leaves are at a 71.5 degree angle and Jupiter is aligned with Orion and they're a Sagittarius and carrying a cup of hot water then be careful of hot water scalds._ " He mimicked in a rather unflattering imitation of Professor Trelawney.

"Malfoy!" Hermione chastised, although she was inwardly amused by his shared opinion of Trelawney. "How dare you compare medicine with divination."

"Apologies. Divination has lots more science backing it up," He smirked and then nonchalantly pulled out a mathematics assignment and began working. In the last few weeks, they'd developed a bit of a habit of sitting together in the library, quietly studying. Occasionally they might ask each other's advice, checking the other's arithmetic or reading over a piece of assessment. They sat working in comfortable, companionable silence for well over an hour. Hermione studied him covertly out of the corner of her eye. Hermione admired how he dedicated himself to his studies-something she'd never been able to get Ron or Harry to do. He was completely focussed, although she could see he was getting frustrated by the twitching muscle in his jaw and the way he scowled at his notes.

"Getting stuck?" she asked quietly, lightly touching his arm, She felt a zing of electricity up her arm.

Draco looked down at her fingers in surprise, and she pulled away quickly.

"You zapped me," she laughed, self consciously.

"Magic." He smirked and then stared at her intently for a moment, his eyes darkening a shade.

"Yeah, uhh let's go outside for a bit," she suggested. "The sunshine's lovely. Make the most of having abandoned our lives and moved to Australia and all."

"Okay," he nodded, grabbing his books, "And let's get something to eat. I'm starving."

"Do boys _ever_ stop eating?" she asked in mock despair.

He screwed up his eyes and placed his fingers on his temples in mock concentration, "A galah faces south-south-east while the bush turkey scratches… It must mean… pizza and beer in the Red Room… forever!" He held the door open for her with a magnanimous gesture. Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes, but appreciated it anyway.

* * *

This time, Hermione wasn't so much sitting in the library as she was lying across two chairs, trying to take a 10 minute power nap so that she could keep studying. It was 3 AM, but she had to keep pushing. She glared blearily at the energy drinks and chocolate bars around her desk. They had done jackshit to help her stay awake. Now she just felt tired, but twitchy, like there were flobberworms crawling over her skin. What she wouldn't give for a bloody time turner now. She just closed her eyes-just for minute-when a piece of paper landed on her forehead. She blearily opened her eyes, and a tiny paper owl hooted softly and then hopped down her nose to fly onto her chest where it promptly unfolded.

 _GO HOME GRANGER._

She snorted and straightened up. Grabbing a pen she, wrote,

 _Can't. BIG test. STOP STALKING ME. Also maybe find a less obvious use of magic in a muggle library?_

The owl folded itself back up and flew away. A few minutes later it returned.

 _Well I tried to teach a cockatoo to carry letters but they're sodding stupid. Does Australia even have owls? However, I suppose I might deign to use a muggle means of communication IF you go home and SLEEP._

Hermione scoffed at the nerve. He would _deign to use muggle communications_?

 _How gracious of you, and yes, they do._

The paper owl returned, now looking remarkably worse for wear. The charm was obviously wearing off.

 _Alright, well pending acquiring an owl, and since strictly speaking, I'm not supposed to be doing magic… what's your number?_

Hermione snorted softly, but her cheeks flushed pink anyway. She hastily wrote her mobile number down and then packed up her books. Malfoy was right, she wasn't achieving anything now anyway and a few hours rest would do her more good. She walked out of the library with a faint smile on her face. A boy had flirted with her and asked for her number, even if it was only Malfoy teasing her. For the first time since Ron had dumped her, she felt good.

Oh shit. She was flirting with Malfoy. And it felt good.

Fuck.

* * *

[Unknown number 07:15 AM]

 _Guess who? ;)_

[Hermione 07:16 AM]

 _I wonder._

[Unknown number 07:16 AM]

 _I'll give you three guesses._

[Hermione 07:17 AM]

 _Cormac McLaggen._

[Unknown number 07:18 AM]

 _Owch. No. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little._

[Hermione 07:18 AM]

 _Ron?_

[Unknown number 07:19 AM]

 _I didn't know it was possible to be even more insulted than being called Cormac 'devil snare fingers' McLaggen._

[Hermione 07:20 AM]

 _Oh, you're the cute guy from BIOM2070. ;)_

[Unknown number 07:20 AM]

 _WHAT CUTE GUY? THIS IS NEWS TO ME._

[Unknown number 07:21 AM]

 _GRANGER?_

[Unknown number 07:25 AM]

 _Graaaaannnngggeeerrrrr?_

[Unknown number 07:35 AM]

 _YOU CAN'T DELIVER THIS PIECE OF JUICY GOSSIP AND THEN NOT DIVULGE FURTHER?_

[Unknown number 07:45 AM]

 _Fine. I wake up early to wish you luck on your test and you ignore me. May you be buried alive in a tomb of a thousand flobberworms._

[Hermione 07:46 AM]

 _Such juvenile insults. It must be Malfoy, I'm texting. Alert the Prophet. Pureblood aristocrat captured by muggles, forced to use mobile._

[Malfoy 07:47 AM]

 _Ha ha. Good luck._

[Hermione 07:49 AM]

 _Thanks, we're going in now. TTYL.  
_

* * *

[Malfoy 09:23 AM]

 _Granger._

[Malfoy 09:24 AM]

 _Granger._

[Malfoy 09:25 AM]

 _GRANGER._

[Hermione 09:27 AM]

 _WHAT, MALFOY?!_

[Malfoy 09:27 AM]

 _Are you in class?_

[Hermione 09:29 AM]

 _Yes, you git! My phone keeps buzzing and everyone's looking at me._

[Malfoy 09:31 AM]

 _Granger, you shouldn't be looking at your phone in class._

[Hermione 09:34 AM]

 _Well stop texting me, you idiot._

[Malfoy 09:35 AM]

 _But I wanted to know how your test went._

[Malfoy 09:35 AM]

 _Smashed it, obviously. But I bet you're worrying yourself over it. So, stop. You did well._

[Malfoy 09:36 AM]

 _Now, breakfast?_

[Malfoy 09:37 AM]

 _I know for a fact that you skipped breakfast. Shame on you, it's the most important meal of the day._

[Malfoy 09:38 AM]

 _Granger, you are denying me necessary sustenance._

[Hermione 09:39 AM]

 _It's twenty to ten. Don't you have class soon?_

[Malfoy 09:41 AM]

 _I am embracing the wonder of student life, and all it has to offer. I.e. skipping lectures. You should try it, just once._

[Hermione 09:42 AM]

:[ 

[Malfoy 09:43 AM]

 _What is that?_

[Hermione 09:44 AM]

 _A disappointed face. You're spending thousands as an international student and you're skipping lectures?!_

[Malfoy 09:45 AM]

 _For the sake of your health and wellbeing! Alright fine, devil woman, I'll go._

[Malfoy 09:46 AM]

 _Lunch then?_

[Hermione 09:47 AM]

 _Ok. But stop texting me!_

[Hermione 09:55 AM]

 _So where are we doing lunch?_

[Hermione 10:10 AM]

 _Malfoy?_

[Hermione 10:27 AM]

 _MALFOY?_

[Malfoy 10:56 AM]

 _You said stop texting._

[Hermione 10:58 AM]

 _OMG you are INFURIATING. I hate you._

[Malfoy 11:01 AM]

 _;) No you don't. Meet you outside anatomy._

[Hermione 11:02 AM]

 _Fine. But we're going for burritos then._

[Malfoy 11:03 AM]

 _Fine. But I'm going to get fat and then all my hopes of a decent marriage prospect will be ruined. I'll die alone. The Malfoy line will end. And it will be all your fault. :( :( :(_

[Hermione 11:04 AM]

 _If you keep texting me, you won't live that long. And I rather think I would enjoy seeing the fall of the House of Malfoy._

[Malfoy 11:05 AM]

 _You couldn't kill me, you'd be bored._

[Hermione 11:06 AM]

 _I'm in anatomy, surrounded by scalpels and dead bodies. Try me._

[Malfoy 11:06 AM]

 _Roger that, Malfoy out.  
_

* * *

She sat in the library, rubbing her temples with frustration as she felt a headache coming on. Another paper, no groundbreaking insights. Maybe Ron was right. Maybe it was a lost cause. Maybe she was just wasting her time and money-

Two pale hands appeared either side of her text book. "Amnesia recovery post blunt-force trauma: a case study of a 43 year old woman?" Malfoy read the title of the paper quizzically. Hermione was alarmed by how he was looking at her papers and by how close he was, how her hair was lightly brushing his chest, how toned and muscular his biceps looked even through his long sleeved shirt, how she could feel his breath lightly over her scalp…

"Malfoy, did you just get oil in my hair?!"

"...Maybe?" he pulled away and sat on the desk, and put on puppy dog eyes.

"Really, Malfoy?" she rolled her eyes, hoping it covered her furious blushing. It didn't of course.

"Am I distracting you, love?" he grinned wickedly. "Understandable of course, given my current attire." He gestured at his clothes. She secretly agreed that he did look good, with his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his blonde hair falling in his stormy eyes, and a few grease stains here and there.

"Oh sod off, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes. "What have you done to yourself?"

"We got to pull apart a jet engine," he told her excitedly, waving his hands animatedly as he explained what he'd gotten up to in his prac. It was still a bit of a shock whenever he did this - got excited about _muggle_ technology. She listened with interest, discreetly scourgifying his stained shirt and hands as they headed off to lunch together.

They chatted about how their courses were going, they argued over politics, she laughed and alternately rolled her eyes at his dry wit. An hour flew past as they traded banter and somehow ended up on a magic vs muggle technology discussion, which was surprisingly friendly.

"Admit it, potions is really just applied chemistry."

"Nonsense," Malfoy replied haughtily, "If all potions took was understanding the molecular component of the ingredients, muggles would have their own versions of polyjuice potion by now."

"Well maybe they haven't been motivated by trying to disguise themselves. Look at muggle medicine! By understanding the biochemical interactions and the physiological pathways, hundreds of diseases have been cured!"

"Yeah, muggle ones," he sniffed, "Not magical. And anyway, they don't have Skelegrow, do they? Muggles must lose limbs too."

"3D printing," Hermione retorted matter of factly. "It's a matter of time. We just had a lecture with 3D modelling and printing of limbs a few weeks ago."

"Yeah, well," Malfoy punctuated his non-existent point by stabbing a rather large piece of Hermione's chicken, and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Hey!" she laughed as he tried his best to look disdainful and aloof with his mouth full. "Wow. Eloquent. You look like a-" The words died in her throat. Her face paled and her eyes widened.

Malfoy swallowed hastily, "Granger, what's wrong?" His eyes followed her gaze to his arm, where his dark mark was displayed. He cursed softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise my glamour had worn off." He hastily unrolled his sleeves and pulled them down.

"Don't," Hermione said sharply. "I was just surprised. I had… I know it sounds silly but I had almost forgotten." Malfoy gave her a wry smile. "Why is there a big scar through it?"

He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath, unconsciously gripping his mark. "I tried everything I could to remove it. It still hurts you know, even now that he's dead. One day I found a nasty curse that I thought would be able to get rid of it, or more likely get rid of my arm - but I thought, at least it will stop hurting. At least it will be gone. " He chuckled bitterly. "I cursed it down to the bone. All that was left, was this raggedy piece of skin where the fucking mark was, stretched over my bones. I spent a few weeks in St Mungo having all the tissue grown back. But the blasted thing's still there, now I just have all these extra purple scars to go with it."

Impulsively, Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand. She removed the glamour over her arm, revealing the puckered, purple MUDBLOOD.

"Granger, I don't want your pity," Malfoy growled. "You can't compare us. They were my choices, they were bad ones. A lot of people died because of me." He wrenched his hand away from her.

"We were both children," she said softly.

"Yeah, and you brought down the greatest dark wizard of all time, while he lived in my house and I cowered," Malfoy spat. He stood up, "Excuse me, I have to get to a class."

Hermione rose too, "Okay, walk me back to the library?"

"Granger, I don't want to talk," he growled, "I'm not a sodding touchy-feely Gryffindor and I sure as fuck don't need your pity. Look at your own damn arm, for Merlin's sake. You're the one who was tortured by my goddamn Aunt!"

Hermione looked down at her arm. It was undeniably ugly. It was still painful sometimes.

"I know what it's like to have cursed wounds. I tried a lot of things to try to make this heal, but it's never going to. It's part of me now. It shows where I've come from, and what I was strong enough to go through."

Malfoy eyed her for a moment, and then shook his head. "Look Granger, you're a real sweetheart for trying to save the fallen Death Eater, but-"

"Who said anything about saving you?" She asked indignantly, hands on her hips, raising herself to her full height - a blasted near foot less than his, Morganna curse her shortness. Hermione adopted her best imitation of a posh pureblood lady, "You wouldn't be so ungentlemanly as to deny a lady's request that you accompany her? What if something should befall me between here and the library? I may, at any moment need rescuing from a dragon or such." She fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

He was still angry, but the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. "Didn't you, oh I don't know, ride a bloody dragon out of Gringotts? You're the last witch on earth who needs saving."

Hermione counted it as a victory. She held out her arm (the non-mudblood one) and looked at him expectantly. "Maybe I'm ready for just a little saving. It's quite exhausting to be constantly saving the world, you know."

He shook his head and took her offered arm. "Damn it woman, are you sure you weren't supposed to be in Slytherin?" 

* * *

**Please review! Up next, why is Hermione living in Australia?**


	3. Principles of Behavioural Psychology

**Yay chapter update. I hope you like it, please review!**

* * *

[Hermione 3:41 PM]

 _Malfoy, meet me down by the lakes. I'll bring coffee._

[Malfoy 3:44 PM]

 _I don't like coffee._

[Hermione 3:45 PM]

 _You will, I'll make a convert of you yet._

[Malfoy 3:46 PM]

 _Doubt it. Bring tequila. That I can get behind._

[Hermione 3:47 PM]

 _It's like 3:30 you raging alcoholic. Hurry up before coffee gets cold._

[Malfoy 3:47 PM]

 _Fine, on my way. But this would be better with tequila._

* * *

Hermione giggled and put her phone in her bag. She stretched luxuriously on the grass beneath the eucalyptus trees, deliberately letting her yellow sundress creep over her slender, tanned legs. If Malfoy wanted to distract her in the library… well, two could play at that game.

"Granger," he acknowledged as he stretched out next to her, "Nice… sunglasses." He took the offered coffee and hesitantly took a sip. He raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise.

"Mocha," she informed him, "Part coffee, part chocolate."

"I know what a mocha is, Granger," he rolled his eyes.

"Does it appease your sweet tooth?" she teased. He looked at her intently for a moment, making a blush creep over her cheeks.

"It'll do," he shrugged, with a teasing smirk. "If anything I think you, in your infinite swottiness, have ruined chocolate." She socked him in the shoulder. "Hey, violence!" He protested, though his eyes were laughing. They sat drinking and watching the ducks for a few minutes.

"So, are you planning on specialising in neurosurgery or something?"

Hermione looked at him in alarm. He shrugged. "Just curious as to why you're always reading psychology and neuroscience stuff."

"I don't want to talk about it," she replied stiffly, edging away slightly and squaring her shoulders.

"It has something to do with the war, doesn't it? It's why you're here in Australia, while Scarhead and Weaselbee are living it up back home."

She didn't trust herself to speak. Morganna thrice curse his perceptiveness. This was not at all how she planned the afternoon to go.

"Granger, did something happen to you?" he looked genuinely concerned.

Her eyes filled with tears at that and to her shame, a small sob escaped. He reached over and turned her face towards him. His silvery eyes searched her golden brown ones with alarm.

"No, no. Not me," she choked, "Something I did. Something _horrible_ that I don't think can be undone." A fat tear rolled down her cheek, and she hastily scrubbed it away with the back of her hand, suddenly embarrassed. Here she was, crying to her formerly worst enemy - in public, no less.

To her surprise, Malfoy simply wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his chest, and then removed a handkerchief from his pocket. She looked at him in askance.

"I know a thing or two about having done something you wish you could undo," he answered softly. She quietly accepted the handkerchief with a nod, and he waited patiently until her sobs died down to hiccups and then to quiet breathing. But he didn't remove his arm. Hermione found that she rather liked his warmth against her, and she especially liked his cologne.

"Granger," he said softly, "Whatever you think you did, I'm sure it isn't as bad as you think. You're the best person I know, and the brightest, so if anyone can fix it - it's you."

"Thanks, Malfoy," she hiccuped. Then she laughed bitterly, "You know, you're the first person to think that I'm not crazy. That I might actually be able to fix this."

"Scarhead and Weaselbee are idiots." He snorted.

"It wasn't just them. I did start healer training in St Mungos, but they all told me I was wasting my time. If it couldn't be done with magic then it couldn't be done." She bit her lip in an effort to stop from crying. "But no one was even willing to fucking try! They just locked them all up in a ward and threw away the bloody key."

Malfoy didn't say anything, he just listened. And for that Hermione was thankful, because now that the dam had burst she couldn't stop now.

"And for a while, they indulged me." She screwed up her nose and adopted a high pitched, unflattering voice, "Yes war heroine, Granger. You can look at potions, you can look at old magic. But you know, it won't make a difference right? And of course, they're muggles so can they really handle _that_ much magic?"

He rubbed soft circles on her arm.

"And of course, the unspoken words in the room are 'they're _just_ muggles'. Not worthy of the time or attention of the very important witches and wizards in the Ministry and St Mungos. We have victims of war to look after, you know." Her voice was hard and bitter, her expression brittle.

"Harry and Ron, they… they supported me, at first. They even helped me a little, in their own ways. But when it started to drag on for months, and I didn't seem to be getting any closer… Ron sort of lost patience. He wanted me to let go. Harry, he understood a bit more, since he lost his parents. He's always wanted family, more than anything. He knew what they meant to me. But even he wanted me to give it up, in the end."

She took a deep breath, and sounded calmer, "Eventually, I told them what I wanted to do. Study muggle medicine and try to see if there was something wizard medicine had missed. To see if maybe, I could combine them and come up with a way to undo what I did. I told Ron, and he lost it. He said I was wasting my time. That it was useless. That muggle medicine was all well and good for a cold or a sprained ankle, but not for curing real diseases. Especially not magical injuries. He's never really understood my muggle background, or taken muggle technology seriously. And… I snapped at him. He couldn't bear to move away and live amongst _muggles._ He offered me an ultimatum, that I stay with him and forget it, or that I pursue this and leave."

She shakily waved to the lakes, "Well, here I am."

There was a moment of silence, while Malfoy considered what she had said. "You obliviated someone," he said at last. She nodded, tearing the grass by her legs. "Your parents. To protect them in the war."

Hermione looked at him for a moment, "You knew, didn't you? How long?"

"A few weeks, you weren't very discreet with your research," he replied apologetically. "I just didn't know who until you made the comment about muggles."

"I couldn't undo it," she whispered, "I thought I would die and I tried to make sure they wouldn't feel any pain with my loss. That they couldn't be captured and used against me, tortured just because I was their daughter."

"And you sent them to live here, in Australia."

She turned to look at him with a sad smile, "They always dreamed of moving to Australia."

"Well, Weaselbee is an even bigger gobshite than I thought," he remarked coldly. "Wonder boy too. After all you did for them, they left you now? Do they even owl you, Granger?"

"Harry does, sometimes."

"Have you been back to Britain?"

"No, not since Ron and I broke up. None of the Weasley's are very forgiving. And Harry almost always takes his side."

"Then they don't deserve you. Weaselbee particularly _never_ deserved you, Granger. Never."

Hermione wasn't really sure what to say. She was starting to feel a little awkward after having poured her heart and soul out to none other than Malfoy. Especially when he'd listened so patiently, and held her close the entire time. Even if he did smell amazing.

"Luckily, you now have me to keep you company. I may be a despised Death Eater, but at least I'm a very attractive one, with intellectual conversation and razor sharp wit." Malfoy grinned cockily, trying to make her laugh. Hermione gave a small smile in response.

"Do you go see your parents at all? Are they close by?"

"They live on the coast so not too far away. I sort of do check ups on them, every so often. From a distance. I was repeatedly warned that seeing me, or me trying to talk to them, might put huge stress on them and result in irrevocable damage."

"Next time you want to go, let me know. I'll come with you, if you want." He gave her hand a squeeze, "You don't have to do this alone, Granger. You didn't hex me on sight or turn me over to the Ministry so I guess I owe you one, right?"

Hermione smiled at him gratefully, and contented herself with resting her head against his chest, watching the ducks turn lazy circles in the lake.

* * *

When Hermione's next observation rolled around, true to his word, Malfoy joined her. He climbed into the passenger side of her car suspiciously, and sat gingerly on the seat.

"Oh grow up, Malfoy. It's fine," Hermione rolled her eyes. Admittedly her car was a bomb. An untidy one at that, she realised embarrassedly as she pushed some notes out of the way so that Malfoy could chuck his bag on the back seat.

"So, you're going to drive? Do you know how?"

"Of course I bloody know how to drive!"

Malfoy raised his hands in surrender. "Just asking! When did you have the bloody time to learn how to drive with everything else going on? Don't tell me you used a time turner."

"I make it a point to know things," she replied, "Besides, it was a fun activity I could do with my parents the summer before we had to leave. It was just so normal, you know? And I thought it might come in handy in the war anyway. How many Death Eaters would expect us to escape in a car?"

"True," Malfoy conceded, "Stolen dragon bursting out of Gringotts would surprise me less than a getaway car." Hermione preened, and the car rolled out of the driveway with an alarming bang.

"Whoopsie," Hermione laughed nervously, as she gently peeled the car off the fence post she had struck. "I get a bit flustered if someone else is in the car, you know. I'll just… uhh, fix that quickly and then we'll head off." She undid her seatbelt and started to climb out when Malfoy caught her arm.

"Granger, you haven't put the car in park."

"OH!" Hermione's cheeks turned Gryffindor scarlet. "Umm, right." After she fixed the car and triple checked the handbrake, she slipped out and cast a few hasty _reparos._ She didn't notice Malfoy surreptitiously double checking his seatbelt, and casting a few wordless cushioning charms.

She slipped back into the driver's seat and ran a hand through her frizzled hair, "Okay, umm sorry. Ready?" She smiled anxiously and her cheeks were pink.

"Oh, yep. Totally. Let's go," Malfoy replied with a strained smile, hoping the witch wouldn't notice his wand poking out of his jean pocket or the spells he had just cast.

Hermione's face fell. "Look, you don't have to come… I know they're muggles and this is pretty weird…"

"Oh no, that's not it," he assured her hastily, "I'm just… feeling embarrassed because I don't know how to drive." He winced internally, even a Gryffindor wouldn't fall for such a poorly crafted lie. _Smooth Draco, real smooth. Are you a Slytherin or a sodding Hufflepuff?!_

But it did the trick. "Oh," Hermione perked up immediately, "Well, I'll teach you sometime. It'll be fun!" And with that, she crunched the clutch–argh!–and the car rumbled out of the driveway. But it was worth it for the smile that lit up her whole face.

* * *

An hour and forty three minutes later, they were parked near an old Queenslander, with sweeping verandahs and a lovingly tended garden. And they had been parked for exactly 28 minutes without a sign of their target. Not that Draco was counting. Okay he was counting, the car was unbearably hot. And it wasn't even summer. How did Australians even survive?

"Do you see them yet?"

"Not yet."

"Well, how much longer are we going to sit here? We're kind of conspicuous, sitting in the car outside their _house,_ Granger."

"They can't see us from here."

"They definitely can."

"Shhh!" Hermione shoved Draco down without warning. "Here they come!"

The flyscreen door swung open, and a middle aged woman with a large sunhat emerged, carrying gardening supplies. She glanced in the direction of the car with a slightly puzzled look on her face, and then called over her shoulder back into the house. Draco felt the cold trickle of an illusion charm spread over his skin and glanced at Granger, as if to say _I told you so._ She glared back at him and huffed, before they returned their attention to Mrs Granger on the verandah. She was joined by who Draco presumed, was Mr Granger. Mrs Granger pointed in the direction of the car, and Mr Granger shook his head and kissed her lightly on the cheek, before settling onto one of the verandah chairs with the Sunday paper. Mrs Granger looked back at the car once more, before shrugging and settling into weeding the front garden.

Hermione heaved a sigh of relief, before eying Draco. "Don't say anything."

"You'd make a terrible Slytherin. Your skulking skills are quite subpar."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "I told you not to say anything."

"Make me," he challenged.

"Don't make me put you in a jar too."

"Put me in a- what?"

Hermione turned the key in the ignition, and smiled wickedly, "Oh I happened to catch Rita Skeeter in her animagus form in fourth year. You know, the beetle?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"Well, I trapped her in an unbreakable jar in her beetle form, to teach her not to write such nasty things in the paper."

"Really? How long?"

"Oh, a year."

"Merlin's balls, Hermione. That's fucked."

"I fed her sugar solution. She wasn't going to die. Whenever she gets a bit too big for her boots I just anonymously mail her a jar and she settles right down again."

Draco was dumbfounded. "I take it back, you'd probably eat half of Slytherin alive."

Hermione smiled serenely as she turned the car back onto the main road. "So, shall we make the most of this drive and go to the beach?"

"Depends. Are you going to murder me and dump my body in the sea to be feasted on by Grindylows?"

"Don't be silly. Grindylows don't live in Australia. It's the sharks you need to watch out for."

"Very comforting."

"Scared, Malfoy?"

"Of you, Granger? Terrified."

* * *

The fresh sea air was heavenly. Hermione inhaled appreciatively, luxuriously stretching her arms in the warm sunshine. She wriggled her toes into the white sand and enjoyed the breeze tugging at her yellow sundress. No wonder her parents had wanted to move to Australia.

"Oh yeah, Australian beaches," Malfoy snorted behind her. "Who would want this when you can have cold, miserable pebble beaches that rain all year round with Arctic waters?"

Hermione laughed, "I suppose that does fits your aesthetic better."

Malfoy looked mildly affronted. "Well, if we must suffer, where would you like to leave our stuff?"

Hermione surveyed the beach for a second. "Over there," she pointed. "Nice and close to the flags and we can see what the lifesavers' report is."

"You are such a swot."

"I take safety seriously. Can you even swim?"

"Yes I can bloody swim Granger."

"Well you should always swim between the flags anyway."

Malfoy's eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head, but he dutifully followed her to the appointed spot anyway.

Malfoy slipped his shirt off, and Hermione was _extremely appreciative._ He had certainly filled out since school, with nicely defined pecs and very clearly visible abs with a trail of hair that lead down…

"Like what you see, Granger?"

"I'm just wondering how it's humanly possible to be so white," she retorted, "You're so pale, you're practically reflective. You're hurting my eyes a little, actually." He smirked at her, with a smile that told her he was unconvinced.

"You'll need to put sunscreen on." She admonished. "Queensland is the melanoma capital of the world."

Again, Malfoy's retinas got a choice view of his brain. But he took the offered bottle and started rubbing some into his arms. Though not without comically screwing up his face.

"It smells weird. It's oily."

"Oh, don't be such a baby."

Hermione suddenly felt very shy about stripping down to her bikini in front of Malfoy. Her dress that normally lifted her confidence now felt outdated and kind of childish compared to the outfits the other girls on the beach were wearing. She turned away and lifted her yellow sundress over her head, revealing her simple but rather small navy blue bikini. She turned around - and the bastard wasn't even looking at her. Figures. Hermione chastised herself. Foolish girl, thinking the Slytherin sex god would be checking her out.

It stung a little.

"Pass me the sunscreen would you, Malfoy?"

He turned around and handed it to her with a smirk, "Need help, Granger?"

"Actually yeah, could you get my shoulders please?" She turned around and pulled her hair to the side, grateful that she could hide her pink cheeks. She jumped when she felt his hands trailing over her shoulders, massaging a little.

"It was cold," she defended lamely when she turned back around to see him staring at her expectantly.

"Do you need help anywhere else?" His mouth quirked at the corner and his grey eyes teased her.

"No," she replied hastily, even though her brain mocked her for the disappointment she'd felt when he'd stopped touching her. "I'm just going to put a little on my face and tie up my hair." Morganna knows how awful the knots would be after the seawater.

He watched for a moment before taking off, "C'mon, Granger. Last one into the water is a rotten Grindylow."

She followed him and gasped when the first wave slapped her legs. "It's cold!" She wrapped her arms around her nipples protectively, sure that they must be jutting through the thin material of her bikini top. Her cheeks reddened and she gasped again as the next wave slapped her in the stomach.

"Rubbish Granger, it's beautiful." He called from further out, "Have you ever tried swimming in the Black Lake? Or anywhere in England, really?"

"Well, I was kidnapped and given to the merpeople in fourth year," she mused, edging her way into the water gingerly. She was up to her chest now and relaxed a little.

"Man, Hogwarts was fucked. Sign a permission slip to go to bloody Hogsmeade, but kidnap children and give them to merpeople or have them fight sodding dragons? No problem." Malfoy shook his head.

"Yeah, defies logic really, doesn't it," Hermione murmured distantly, enjoying paddling through the surf, now having passed Malfoy.

"Don't go too far, Granger."

"That's the trick, Malfoy. You swim out past the break and then-AAHHH!" Hermione cried out as she was caught by a wave that unceremoniously dumped her under the water, and slammed her directly into Malfoy's chest. She emerged, coughing and spluttering seawater and blinking furiously.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," she wheezed, "The other trick is to pay attention to the waves."

"Uh huh."

She became conscious that he was still holding her in place, his hands gently wrapped around her upper arms. And that they were very close together.

"You… you can let go of me now, Malfoy."

"No, you're much too short to handle being out this deep."

She splashed him in the face. "How dare you."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes menacingly. Hermione immediately backpedalled.

"I take the splash back, I take it back!" she squeaked as he lifted her out of the water effortlessly. She flailed her legs to no avail. "No, no! Put me down! Malfoy! Put me down!"

"Okay," he shrugged, and dropped her. She landed with a splash. Underwater, she cast aguamenti. Malfoy sputtered under the veritable torrent of water that assaulted him, knocking him off his feet as Hermione emerged victorious. He glared at her.

"All's fair in love and war," she taunted.

"You have made a terrible mistake, Granger." He growled, wiping the water from his face. She shrieked and dived under the next wave while he gave chase.

The lifesaver peered through the binoculars, puzzled. "Are those two alright? Where'd all the water come from?"

The second lifesaver glanced at Hermione and Draco, who were now having a splashing contest. "Ah, young love."

* * *

"Let's get fish and chips and eat on the beach," Hermione suggested as they sat on the sand, towelling off after finally calling their splash war a draw. Even though Malfoy knew he won.

"Merlin, could you be any more British?" Malfoy snorted in response. "No way, you dragged me up here and I am going to sample the finest local produce available."

"Local produce?"

"It's called food, Granger. Look it up."

After forty minutes of back and forth as they wandered along the seaside cafes, they ended up out the front of what had to be the poshest and most expensive restaurant in town.

"This one," Malfoy declared decisively.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "That's definitely out of my student budget."

Draco shrugged, "I'll buy lunch."

"Malfoy, no," Hermione protested, "I was going to treat you to lunch to say thanks for coming with me."

"You drove, we went to the beach, I'll get lunch then. That fair enough for your Gryffindor sensibilities?"

"No! Also, I'm not dressed for that place." Hermione tugged her sundress nervously and eyed her thongs with dismay.

"It's on a beach. Besides, you look lovely."

"Malfoy."

"Okay, we'll buy you a dress and shoes if that makes you feel better."

Hermione's eyes boggled out of her head. "No way. That's way too much."

"Merlin, you must be the only woman in the world who panics when a man offers to buy her clothes and take her to a nice restaurant." Draco looked faintly amused.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.

"Look Granger, I just want to eat really good seafood, okay? Indulge me."

"Like you need indulging."

"You tried to drown me, it's the least you can do to make it up to me."

"Okay, okay," Hermione sighed. "But I'm just going to duck into the bathroom and transfigure my dress and shoes."

Draco grinned.

"Only to shut you up."

"Don't care, I won."

And so Hermione found herself sharing oysters with hot sauce at a restaurant with a deck overlooking the water.

"How very bourgeois," Hermione remarked.

"I'm a Malfoy, Granger," he drawled in response, lips curving into a wicked smile. "How do you like the oysters?"

"Honestly? Not overly. They're kind of slimy," Hermione grimaced. Draco clutched his heart. "I know, I know. I'm a filthy peasant. The scallops are amazing though. And everything else for that matter."

Draco preened, "Told you it would be worth it. Though a thousand men weep for not being able to seduce you with oysters."

Hermione rolled her eyes and opened her mouth.

"Please don't correct me with a list of magical aphrodisiacs and detailed breakdown of the molecular components." Draco hastily added. "Anyway, your parents looked happy, didn't they?"

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, toying with a scallop on her plate. "Thanks for coming with me. It can be hard to come alone. I actually had fun today."

"Me too."

"It feels kind of wrong, to have fun though."

"They'd want you to be happy. And you need a break. You'll work yourself to death if you're not careful."

"I guess so."

There were a few minutes of silence. Hermione found it suddenly hard to look at Malfoy, and instead focused on the breathtaking view of the ocean to her right while biting her lip to stop herself from doing something stupid, like crying again.

"Would you like to go to the engineering ball with me?" he asked suddenly.

"Me?" Hermione repeated in surprise, snapping her head back to Malfoy.

"No, this lovely oyster."

"Well, if you're going to take that attitude, I shan't. In fact, I shall go with the attractive guy from your mechanical prac."

Malfoy huffed and eyed her suspiciously. "I take you to lunch and you'd go to the ball with that dickhead?"

"Well that's what you get for trying to bribe me. Also, have you heard how much Australian slang you've picked up?"

"Nice change of topic, Granger. I take that as a no, then?"

"No. Well, no. I mean. Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, I'll go with you. If you like. Just as friends?" Hermione mentally kicked herself. Why had she added that on? She was nervously blabbering again. And afraid of the answer.

Draco stared at her for a moment. "Sure, just as friends."

Hermione felt both relieved and disappointed. Weirdly, Malfoy had become one of her closest friends and she didn't want to lose that friendship-her only friendship at the moment if she was being honest. But she also couldn't deny that she found him very, very attractive. But then, it was Malfoy. Maybe being halfway around the world was doing something funny to her brain.

"Well, we should probably get going. I've got some readings to do this afternoon."

Malfoy nodded and signalled for the cheque. Hermione's gut twisted at how much it probably was. She supposed it was okay to treat yourself once in a while, and for Malfoy it was probably nothing.

"Thanks for lunch," she smiled, "You were right, it was worth it. I think I need you to roll me home now."

Malfoy smiled back at her, "Anytime."

When they got back to the car, she transfigured her dress and shoes back to her comfortable sundress and thongs. She stretched her arms in preparation for the drive, and flushed a little when she realised the hem just barely skimmed her ass. Maybe it was time to get some new clothes.

"I don't want to go back," Malfoy complained. "The view is much nicer here." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Hermione smacked his arm. "Hey, violence! I was talking about the ocean, woman. Merlin."

Hermione climbed into the driver's side while Malfoy followed suit in the passenger.

"Please don't lock me in a jar."

* * *

[Malfoy 10:02 PM]

 _Granger._

[Malfoy 10:02 PM]

 _Help, I'm sunburnt. What spell do I cast to fix it?_

[Malfoy 10:03 PM]

 _Granger please, I'm dying._

[Malfoy 10:04 PM]

 _You heartless witch._

[Hermione 10:11 PM]

 _I told you to put sunscreen on._

[Malfoy 10:12 PM]

 _I DID. IT DIDN'T WORK._

[Malfoy 10:12 PM]

 _Look, I'll show you._

[Malfoy 10:13 PM]

 _Sent a photo._

Hermione opened the photo. Malfoy was pulling a sad face in the mirror, pointing to the redness spread over his chest. His abs were nicely on display above his jeans. Really nicely on display. Feeling incredibly guilty, she tapped and saved the photo. 

[Hermione 10:13 PM]

 _Wow, you sent me a selfie. I'm pretty sure Old Voldy's rolling in his grave right now._

[Malfoy 10:14 PM]

 _Very funny, now help me._

[Hermione 10:14 PM]

 _If you'd rubbed it in properly you wouldn't be in this situation._

[Malfoy 10:15 PM]

 _Bollocks. I bet you're burned too._

[Hermione 10:15 PM]

 _Am not. I'll prove it to you._

Biting her lip, Hermione crossed the floor to her own mirror. Her own skin was slightly more tanned from the sun today, leaving a faint bikini outline. She looked down at her pajamas. She couldn't send a picture in the Cannons jersey Ron had given her. She swapped it for a burnt orange tank top that looked beautiful against her tan skin. But now she felt self-conscious with the tight tank top and the tight shorts she was wearing. She swapped both for another oversized tee-shirt, that slipped off her shoulder and showed off her long legs. She snapped a pic and then examined it. There was a stain on the side of the shirt. She whipped the shirt off and threw it on the floor in frustration.

That left her in just her underwear. But that would be crossing the boundary of 'just friends', wouldn't it.

Slipping her tight shorts back on, and tying her hair up in a bun, she screwed up her courage and took an over the shoulder photo, so that her tanned back and ass (barely covered by the shorts) were on display. She looked at it. She felt sexy, but it was way to risque to send to a 'just friend'.

Oh shit.

She'd accidentally sent it. In one of those moments where you brain thinks really hard about something, and decides not to do it, but fate or some other worldly force compels you to do it anyway. Like throwing out your dinner instead of the container.

Shit, shit _shit._

She threw her phone onto the bed in horror and began to pace. Well, she didn't trust herself to obliviate Malfoy… so she could move to Madagascar, or somewhere equally remote and spend the rest of her life as a hermit. In a panic, she tapped out a message. 

[Hermione 10:24 PM]

 _Whoops, wrong pic wrong person. LOL so embarrassing. But I guess you can see that I didn't burn hahaha._

Oh Morgana, why did she say that? She threw her phone back on the bed before she could do any further damage and slipped on her cannons jersey. Now Malfoy was going to think she was some slag, sending half naked pics around.

After the longest fifteen minutes of her life, her phone screen lit up on the bed. Feeling like she might be sick, she opened the message. 

[Malfoy 10:40 PM]

 _I didn't know you were that close to someone else. Tan suits you by the way. I should get to sleep. Good night, Granger._

Hermione let her head fall back into the wall with a thump. She couldn't very well say that she took the picture for him, then panicked and pretended it was for someone else. 

[Hermione 10:45 PM]

 _Night Malfoy. Btw cold showers and aloe vera will help with your sunburn. Or I can show you a charm if it's really painful._

After half an hour she accepted that he wasn't going to reply tonight. She laid her head on the pillow, bitterly missing Crookshanks, repeating 'just friends' over and over under her breath until she drifted to sleep.

* * *

 **Obviously a woman has the right to send pictures to whomever she chooses, but I think Hermione's character would freak out like that in that moment. Drama! Please leave reviews, they make my day while I'm stuck with this stupid broken leg and ankle. Never try bouldering, it's the worst.**

Thanks! xx


	4. Fear and the brain: the amygdala

**Thanks for all the reviews everyone! They mean so much to me!  
Ingrid: your suspicions may prove correct... incoming drama on a much bigger scale than I originally anticipated. I hope this doesn't blow up in _my_ face.  
Guest: thank you :)**

Hope you like it guys. As always, reviews fill me with joy and make me write faster! xx

* * *

[Hermione 9:18 AM]  
 _How's the sunburn today? Did you try the aloe vera?_

[Hermione 9:47 AM]  
 _I can show you the charm at morning tea if you really need it._

[Hermione 11:31 AM]  
 _Hey, you up for lunch? I'm happy to go where you want, since you demonstrated your excellent taste on the weekend._

Hermione looked back over her message history from the last few days. Malfoy had been MIA since the weekend, after she'd sent that stupid text. She was torn between wanting to mentally slap herself and laughing. On the one hand, she was embarrassed by her 'wrong person text' and then doubly embarrassed again by her somewhat needy follow-up texts asking to meet up. On the other hand, if someone had told her in Hogwarts that she would be checking her phone for a text from Malfoy she would have laughed in their face. Truthfully though, she hadn't realised how much time she actually spent with him. Malfoy had somehow become one of her best friends. Her only close friend here in Australia.

Well, really if he wanted to carry on and sulk over her seeing other people then fuck him. She was a grown woman, and he had literally earlier that day agreed that they were 'just friends'. He didn't own her. He may be a Malfoy and own practically everything under the sun, but he sure as hell didn't have any claim over her! God he was being as bad as Harry and Ron in Hogwarts when Viktor Krum asked her out.

Even if a mocking voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she kind of wanted him to have some sort of claim over her.

"Ugh, fuck boys," Hermione muttered and ran her fingers through her hair with annoyance, immediately catching them in a snarl which only infuriated her more.

"Uh, excuse me?" Hermione's assignment partner, Emma, looked mildly alarmed.

Could the ground just swallow her up? "Sorry," Hermione apologised, her face flushing with embarrassment. "I was distracted and just thinking outloud. What were you saying?"

"I was saying I think we're just about finished on the PBL," she repeated. "Are you alright? Having some fuckboy trouble?" She raised her brows and smiled knowingly.

"Yeah, I guess," Hermione admitted. "Well we were just friends, but now he's stopped talking to me."

"All men are dicks," Emma replied dismissively. "Get over him and onto someone else."

Hermione squeaked in protest that it wasn't like that at all. The girl's quirked brow suggested that she thought it was exactly like that.

"Well anyway, come to the bar with me this afternoon. We deserve to relax after smashing out this presentation anyway."

Hermione considered the offer for a moment, before nodding. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

"No problem," the girl smiled, gathered her books and left Hermione alone in the library.

Hermione waited a few minutes to make sure that the coast was clear, and then reached into her bag and pulled out a scrappy legal pad. She quietly slipped her wand out of her shorts, tapped the pad and whispered specialis revelio. Immediately the legal pad transformed into a stack of copies of the Daily Prophet. She'd started having them forwarded to her, since she couldn't rely on any of her friends at home to keep her up to date. That would require acknowledging her and what she was doing here in Australia. She also liked to keep an eye on that Skeeter hag. Hermione began idly flipping through the issues, wondering whether she should read them chronologically, or change it up by reading in order of article that most interested her. Hermione reached the more recent issues and her heart leapt into her mouth.

 _INTERNATIONAL HUNT FOR ESCAPED DEATH EATERS_ screamed the headline, with Malfoy's sneering Azkaban mugshot underneath. With trembling fingers, Hermione opened the paper to the article.

 _Authorities are hunting for a number of convicted Death Eaters who have broken parole and fled England. They include, but are not limited to, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. While Nott received a suspended sentence in light of his age, relatively minor crimes and willingness to comply with authorities, Malfoy's trial was considerably more controversial. Malfoy received a suspended sentence, despite his serious charges -including the attempted murder of the late Albus Dumbledore, the attempted murder of fellow Hogwarts student, Katie Bell and the Three Broomsticks' barmaid, Rosmerta Allianz. Malfoy also allowed the Death Eaters entry into Hogwarts, the act which resulted in the murder of Dumbledore and several members of the Order of the Phoenix being seriously injured. His suspended sentence was largely due to the fact that war heroes, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, testified in Malfoy's favour._

 _There have been reports that Malfoy is now wanted for crimes against muggles in both France and the United States of America, with further rumours that he has now fled to the Southern Hemisphere. A source, who wished to remain anonymous, cited that Malfoy had been seen in Australia. This coincides with disturbing reports of increased muggle disappearances in many Southern nations. Most concerning are the rumours that war heroine, Hermione Granger, has also relocated to Australia to work on a special project aiding war victim recovery. When approached regarding Miss Granger's whereabouts and her current activities, Mr Potter declined to comment. Ronald Weasley, the third member of the Golden Trio also refused to reveal where Miss Granger currently is, stating only that "She's wasting her time" and that "[he] hadn't heard from her in a year." With Miss Granger's apparently forgiving and trusting nature regarding Malfoy, this reporter can only hope that should she encounter him, she will use her formidable skill and intellect and not act naively._

 _The Ministry revealed in an official statement to the press that, "We are taking these reports very seriously, and are working with our French and American counterparts to apprehend these dangerous men as soon as possible. We ask that members of the public refrain from engaging and report any further sightings of any former Death Eaters to the Ministry."_

 _The Ministry is expected to collaborate with the French and American authorities to send a joint international mission to recapture and return these men to Azkaban. This reporter prays that neither Miss Granger nor any further muggles have come to harm._

Hermione let the paper fall from her hands in shock. She felt like the room was spinning. Her eyes scanned the article again. Reports of crimes against muggles. Hermione felt all the blood drain from her face, despite the fact that her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. She couldn't reconcile the man she'd sat with at the library table, at lunch, at the beach with attacking muggles. But then, how could she reconcile Malfoy being kind to her with all of the cruel, vindictive things he'd done? Memories whirled around in her head, fighting for her attention. His pale face sneering, 'you'll be next mudbloods' under Mrs Norris in second year. Taunting them when the Death Eaters stormed the Quidditch World Cup… or had he be warning her to get away? All the vile things he did as part of the Inquisitorial Squad. Letting the Death Eaters into the school. Letting Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback into Hogwarts. Pretending not to recognise them at Malfoy Manor. Watching Bellatrix lash her with curse after curse, cackling madly. Doing nothing while MUDBLOOD was carved into her arm. Splashing her at the beach, teasing her over oysters. The room of requirement, blazing with cursed fire at the final battle.

Hermione was having a full blown panic attack. Her scar burned as she shoved everything into her bag and leaped up from the table.

Maybe Malfoy wasn't avoiding her because of a stupid text at all. Maybe he was hiding from aurors. Or maybe he was…  
 _Oh god. I showed him where my parents live._

Hermione ran.

* * *

Hermione appeared with a loud pop. She would never ordinarily risk apparating into a muggle street, but now she was too frightened to care. She hid behind some camelia bushes and peered up at her parent's Queenslander. She couldn't see any movement inside the house. Sweat trickled down her back in the afternoon heat, and her thighs screamed at her for squatting position. Hermione bit her lip in frustration, trying not to cry as the battle raged within her. She wanted nothing more than to race up into the house and fling the door open to check that they were alright, but if they were alright, the sight of her bursting into their house would put their memory charm under too much stress and destroy their mind.

She couldn't believe that Malfoy would harm them. But if she didn't truly believe that, why had she apparated here?

A car pulled into the driveway, causing Hermione's head to snap to the sound. From behind the bushes, she breathed a sigh of relief as her father climbed out, and nonchalantly ambled up the steps. Her mother opened the door and greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek, ushering him inside before he "let the air conditioning out". Hermione heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed against the ground. Her parents were okay. For now.

Now her mind turned back to the Malfoy problem. She desperately wished Harry was here. She felt panicked and overwhelmed. She hadn't felt this way since the war. And this time, she was alone.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Hermione pulled it out.

[Emma 5:31 PM]  
 _Hey! You coming? The Engineering Soc is here and there are some FINE nerds. Check it outttttt ;)_

[Emma 5:31 PM]  
 _Sent image attachment._

Hermione almost didn't bother looking, but some strange force compelled her to open the picture. It was of the uni bar, near the pool tables, where several very attractive guys were playing pool. Including one unmistakeable silver blonde.

[Hermione 5:32 PM]  
 _THAT'S HIM. THE FUCKBOY. WHITE BLONDE. DON'T LET HIM OUT OF YOUR SIGHT I'M COMING._

[Emma 5:32 PM]  
 _Consider it done. ;)_

Heart in her mouth, Hermione apparated back to her apartment. She grabbed a few dozen items, and then apparated again to a quiet part of the university grounds.

She strode up the path to the uni bar, flashed her ID and made her way inside. Emma waved her over to her table of friends and pressed a glass of beer into her hand. Hermione took a huge gulp to steady her nerves.

"Hermione, glad you could make it," she said warmly. Then her expression turned sly, "Fuckboy at 4 o'clock." Hermione followed Emma's gaze to the pool tables, where Malfoy casually leaned against the wall with a beer in one hand and pool cue in the other. He laughed and set his drink down, and bent over the table to take his shot.

Emma sighed, "They always have the best asses, don't they?" Hermione silently agreed. Emma turned back to Hermione, "But don't let it distract you. Go fuck him up." She gave Hermione a gentle shove and a wink. The rest of the girls at the table offered support and encouragement as Hermione hesitantly stepped forward.

She summoned her Gryffindor courage and marched straight up to Malfoy. "I need to talk to you."

Malfoy slowly turned around and fixed her with his steely eyes. "I'm busy," he drawled, sipping his beer.

"It's important," Hermione insisted, willing herself to remain calm.

"We're in the middle of a game, Granger."

"Oi Malfoy, don't be a dick," one of the other players admonished. He turned to Hermione with a smile, "We only just started, why don't you play for me? You'll be partnered with this wanker though." He jerked his head towards Malfoy goodnaturedly. It was clear that Malfoy did not appreciate the sentiment.

"Oh, I don't even know how to play," Hermione protested.

"Don't worry, we'll teach you. And Malfoy's shit anyway so there's no pressure," he laughed. Hermione looked dubious, so he pressed the cue into her hand and ushered her to the table. She shot a glance back over her shoulder at Malfoy, who looked positively murderous. Hermione gulped. Well, as long as she kept him here, he couldn't hurt anyone.

Hermione could feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of her head as she leant over the table, with the other student, who introduced himself as Daniel, showed her how to place her hand and hold the cue.

"So you need to hit the white ball into the bigs, those are the ones with white circles on the end," he explained with a friendly smile. Hermione nodded, and tried to line up the shot. She felt her tongue sticking out-a nervous habit she tried so hard to break-and forced it back in her mouth as she slid the cue forward. The white ball ricocheted off the wall and lightly tapped one of the big balls.

"Finally, something you're not an expert in, Granger," Malfoy sneered.

"Malfoy you're being a cunt, mate." Daniel informed him, before turning back to Hermione, "Not bad, just need some practise. Just try your best to aim and take it easy." He shot Hermione a friendly, easygoing grin that reminded her of Ron. She felt her nerves settle a little, even though she was distinctly aware of Malfoy watching her. Besides, she liked the Australian accent, and Daniel was pretty cute. She might as well play along.

A few more rounds progressed, and a few more drinks were downed, but there was little improvement to Hermione's pool game. Malfoy on the other hand, had irritatingly demonstrated significant skill. Casually leaning against the wall, he looked entirely too much like a predator toying with his prey to Hermione. He pushed his sleeves up, revealing his long pale forearms-though his left was now covered in swirling black designs that rather distracted Hermione, making her pool game even worse. Fortunately, he made no further comments other than a raised eyebrow when she missed the white ball entirely and accidentally drove the cue into the table.

"Oh bollocks," Hermione pouted.

"We'll make that a practise one," Daniel winked. "Here, I'll help." He began positioning Hermione's arms. "You're too stiff," he explained, "You need to let the cue slide."

"Am I doing it right?" She asked, biting her lip nervously. "Oh, it's no use. I'm hopeless. You should take over."

"Nonsense," Daniel replied brightly. "Here, we'll play together!" He started to angle himself so that he was lightly touching Hermione so that they could both move the cue together.

"I think I'll take it from here, Dan," Malfoy drawled. "It's my pool reputation on the line, so I'd better instruct my partner. Properly." Hermione froze as she felt Malfoy's hard chest press firmly against her back. He languidly stretched his long arms over hers, their bare skin touching each other and Hermione hating the crackle of electricity that shot up to her shoulders. He took her hands under his and re-aimed her pool cue as he leant his cheek against her head. "Let me show you how it's really done," he murmured against her ear. Hermione shivered, which only pushed her more firmly against him. "You seem tense," he remarked drily, "Relax."

"It'd be a lot easier to relax without you manhandling me," she shot back, keeping a sweet smile on her face. Malfoy chuckled darkly and slid the cue forward. The 15 rolled neatly into the pocket. Malfoy stood back, an arrogant smirk spreading across his face. Hermione stared at him incredulously.

"You get another shot now. You're welcome." He returned to leaning against the wall, eyes dark and unflinching. Hermione quickly made her shot, and joined him.

"Nice ink," she remarked, leaning against the wall with feigned casualness even though her heart was pounding.

"Easier to hide in plain sight," he replied, lightly shaking his left arm.

Hermione's head snapped towards him, "What do you mean by that?"

"Read into it what you will, Dr Phil." With a sly glance, he set down his beer and stalked to the table. He spent a moment considering the angles before moving around the table, easily sinking the remaining two balls and lining up for the black. Hermione watched him cautiously, keeping her eyes trained on his face and not on the way he'd undone his top button, or the way the sleeves clung to his muscular arms or his jeans to his well rounded ass. Potting the black, he sauntered back over to Granger, who handed him back his beer.

"Quite the display. Done peacocking?"

Malfoy shot her another arrogant smirk, and then drained his beer in one go.

"You do pick up a few things in the colonies," his eyes glittered.

"Now can we talk? In private?"

"Lead the way princess." Hermione rolled her eyes and stalked out of the bar, ignoring the calls and protests from Daniel and the suggestive comments from the other engineering students. Malfoy followed her, with a slight wobble as he stepped over the door frame. Nonetheless his expression was smug as he swaggered along behind Hermione as she strode down the path into the dimly lit and deserted bushland.

She came to a halt and turned to face him.

"So what is so damn-"

Hermione's hand snaked out lightning fast, grabbing Malfoy, and sidelong apparating him into her apartment. Malfoy, caught completely off-guard, staggered and fell against couch. Hermione whipped out her wand.

"Incarcerous," she hissed. Ropes immediately coiled around his wrists and ankles and snaked around the couch legs. Malfoy looked at his restraints and then back at her Hermione with wicked amusement.

"I didn't pick you for being into bondage, Granger." The git had the audacity to slouch back against the couch - as much as his restraints would allow- and smirk at her.

"Shut up," Hermione's eyes flashed, and she glanced down at her watch. "What are you doing here in Australia?"

"Seriously, Granger? Didn't we go over this?"

"Answer me." She levelled her wand at him.

"I ran away. From my stupid parole, from my parents, from my arranged marriage. Interesting foreplay, Granger. What's next?" He adopted a gruff voice, "Where is your rebel base? Name the system!" He chuckled to himself, obviously a little more drunk than Hermione had thought. She also deeply regretted introducing him to Star Wars.

Hermione glanced down at her watch again, "What's the most embarrassing moment from your childhood?"

"My Father catching me wanking and then sitting me down to explain how to do it properly." Malfoy immediately responded, before a look of shock and horror crossed his face. "What the fuck, Granger?"

Realisation dawned. "You spiked my beer with veritaserum, you sly bitch."

"Quite a lot, since I know you're an occlumens." Hermione affirmed. "Which is why I was flirting with Daniel. The next stage of the plan was to get you two into a drinking contest but you drained your beer anyway. And since now I know it's working, please let me know if you think you're dying from the poison and I'll give you the antidote."

"You're seriously fucked up, you know that?" Malfoy replied simply, though Hermione thought she detected a note of admiration.

"How are you feeling?" she asked anxiously.

"Pretty turned on, actually." He replied before he could stop himself, but he covered it with a cocky grin. "So why are you poisoning me? If you wanted to know my darkest fantasies you could have just asked, Granger. Hint, ropes-good start."

Hermione brushed his comments aside, though her cheeks were burning. "What are you doing in Australia?"

"Hiding. From family, Azkaban, Pansy."

"Since your parole, have you been to France?"  
"Yes."

"The United States?"

"Yes."

Hermione took a deep breath. "And did you participate in any Death Eater activities whilst there? Did you harm muggles in any way or know of other dark magic operatives harming others?"

"No." His eyes hardened, the laughter going out of his voice. A muscle in his jaw twitched. The tattoos on his arm shimmered and dissolved as he lost control of the glamour he'd placed there.

"Then explain this to me!" She thrust the Daily Prophet in his face. His eyes skimmed over the article, becoming progressively angrier as he read. He twitched a moment, and then responded.

"It's a newspaper. They're designed to convey news to the masses."

Hermione glared at him. He was trying to fight off the effects of the potion by answering truthfully, but deliberately misconstruing her questions.

"Why are there reports of you having committed crimes against muggles in the United States and France?!"

"Most likely false reports by my many enemies who want to see me rot in Azkaban forever," he spat venomously. "I expected my friends to know better than to believe everything they read in the Prophet. Present party especially."

"But you have broken your parole and fled to Australia," she insisted.

"I don't deny that, Granger."

"Do you still harbour any blood prejudice?"

"Sometimes," he growled, eyes boring into hers, "It's hard to unlearn a lifetime of hate. Especially when someone is trying their hardest to respark that particular flame."

"Do you have any intention to harm my parents?"

"No. Never." He eyed her coldly, shutting down all expression into a mask of indifference.

"Well then why did you ignore me after I took you to their house?"

"I was jealous," he snapped, before sinking back into the couch with a furious scowl.

"Jealous?" Hermione repeated, bewildered.

"Of whoever you sent that bloody text to." He clamped his jaw shut, struggling with the effects of the potion.

"Oh," Hermione whispered. With all the panic of having hidden a potentially murderous criminal who might have been hurting her parents, she'd forgotten about the stupid text she'd spent the past week agonising over. "Oh god, this is all a horrible misunderstanding. I read the article today and I added that to you not being around in the week…"

Malfoy looked completely unimpressed, his gaze unflinching and accusatory.

"And I guess I added two and two and got five."

He raised a pale eyebrow, "You hadn't heard from me, so you assumed I was torturing your parents."

Hermione swept her hands through her hair, at a complete loss. "No? Yes? I don't know. I - How do you feel?"

"Et tu, Brutus." He clucked mockingly.

Hermione's shoulders slumped in defeat, "I'm sorry, Malfoy." She waved her wand over the ropes. He immediately sprang forward with a snarl, pinning Hermione against the wall with her wand arm above her head. He squeezed a pressure point in her wrist, forcing her to drop her wand with a gasp of pain.

"Is this more in character for you?" He hissed, millimetres from her face. "The big bad Death Eater chased the precious little mudblood half-way around the world so he could hurt her parents to get back at her for the war?" His eyes flashed with contempt.

"Malfoy, no that's not what I-"

"Don't lie to me," he snarled, "What was all this bullshit about this doesn't matter?" He waved his mark in front of her face.

"Malfoy-"

"Because it clearly does fucking matter. Or else you wouldn't pulled this shit."

"Well forgive me for going off our past history!" Hermione snapped. Malfoy pushed away from her in disgust.

"I knew this would happen," he said, pointing his finger in her face. "We can be all friendly and forgiving when it's just easy coffees and studying but I knew, the first time my past really came up - you'd turn your back on me."

"I didn't think-"

"That much is patently obvious." He shook his head and turned away. "You might have had a sodding lion on your robes in school, Granger, but you're just as much a snake as the rest of us."

Hermione felt like she'd been slapped.

"Malfoy," she began softly, fighting tears that threatened to build. "Draco, please…"

"Save it," he said flatly. "Accio, antidote." The small vial whizzed to his outstretched hand. He uncorked it and downed it in one fluid motion. He stomped out the door and slammed it behind without a backward glance. Hermione heard the vial shatter as he smashed it on her step for good measure.

Then she sunk to the floor and began to cry.


	5. Clinical Approaches to Addiction

**Yay update! Thank you SO SO much to everyone who has followed and favourited, and ESPECIALLY REVIEWED! You're the best. They mean so much!  
90 follows?! Woooooo.  
** **  
I apologise for the crappy formatting on my chapters, I can't seem to figure out how to translate my formatting to FF. :( Also for any mistakes, the pain medication I'm on makes it quite hard to focus and read and at a certain point you just say, 'fuck it, that's good enough.'**

 **I'm also chucking a content warning on this chapter for allusions to sexual violence.**

 **Please read, review, let me know what you think!  
**

* * *

[Hermione 11:37 PM]  
 _Missed call (3)_

[Hermione 11:49 PM]  
 _Malfoy, I am so fucking sorry. Can we please talk?_

[Hermione 12:31 AM]  
 _At least let me know that I haven't poisoned you._

[Hermione 1:04 AM]  
 _Are you okay?_

* * *

Hermione laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. She'd drifted off eventually, sometime after 3 am and slept in until 10 as a result. Her hair was tangled into vicious knots, she needed a shower and her stomach was loudly reminding her that she'd only had alcohol for dinner. But she didn't get up. She didn't want to. She couldn't. Her limbs felt like they were made of lead. Her fingers felt weak and stiff. She felt all the grief that she'd pent up over the past year squeezing the air out of her chest, but she felt too numb to cry.

When Hermione had felt overwhelmed growing up her mother had encouraged her to 'keep it in perspective'. To break her problems down into their constituent parts and then devise solutions for what she could change, and to accept what she couldn't control. After all, things could always be worse. It was just a matter of flipping one's mindset to be able to tackle the problem. So Hermione reflected on her current predicament.

She was halfway around the world, with no friends or family or support network to speak of.  
Her best friends hardly acknowledged her existence.  
Her parents had no memory of her-the mere sight of her might cause them to lose their minds.  
She was devoting so much energy to studying a degree that it was draining the life out of her, and it was probably a lost cause.  
She had no new leads and was starting to feel like her parents were lost to her forever.  
She had betrayed the trust of her only close friend and potentially poisoned him to boot.

She felt completely hopeless.

She tried to flip the problem. At least she wasn't on the run, fighting a war against the greatest dark wizard the world had ever seen.

Shockingly, she wasn't much comforted by the thought.

With a sigh, Hermione heaved herself up out of bed, staggered to the kitchen and pulled out a tub of ice cream and a spoon. She staggered back to bed, pulled over her laptop and logged onto Netflix.  
"Fuck it," she muttered, digging into salted caramel with chunks of hazelnut and aimlessly scrolling through the list of shows. Hermione was going to wallow. Her mother would not have approved.

But then, she wasn't here. That was the whole point.

And that was how Harry found her, when he knocked on her door some six hours later.  
"Harry," she cried, throwing her arms around his neck as she opened the door. "What are you doing here?"  
"I came to see you. It's been too long," he grinned, hugging her tightly. He held her at arm's length and studied her, taking in her wildly frizzy hair, stained pyjamas and the purple shadows under her eyes. "What's wrong, Hermione?"  
"You mean aside from the fact that my parents have no memory of me, I'm alone on the other side of the world and my friends have all abandoned me?" Hermione asked acerbically, stepping aside to allow him in.  
Harry winced, "We didn't abandon you, Hermione. You left us."  
"To try to save my parents, Harry!"  
He raised his hands in surrender, "Okay, okay. How are things going with your parents?"  
Hermione deflated and sank down onto the couch. "I'm no closer now than I was a year ago. I mean, I'm learning so much and it's really quite fascinating, but I'm feeling so lost. The more I study the harder it seems. I don't know where to go from here." She rubbed her face, feeling bone crushingly weary.  
Harry rubbed her shoulder sympathetically, "Why don't you just start with a shower? Then we can go out for dinner or something and talk properly."  
"I smell that bad, huh?" Hermione joked weakly.  
"Like a liquor store," Harry informed her seriously. "Mixed with ice cream and cigarettes."

Hermione grumbled something about ice cream, liquor and smoking being a perfectly fine combination, but headed to the bathroom nonetheless. She poked her head out of the doorway, "Oh Harry, make yourself at home. There's tea and such in the kitchen." Harry nodded while averting his eyes, since Hermione's bra and knickers were draped over her arm.  
"Really, Harry?" she asked, shaking her bra in his direction for good measure. Harry hastily made his excuses and made a beeline for the kitchen. Laughing and feeling lighter already, she took her shower.

She emerged feeling greatly refreshed and significantly more human. She was toweling her hair when she stopped dead at Harry's horrified expression.  
"Hermione," Harry began in a strangled voice, "Why is there a picture of Malfoy on your phone?" He turned the screen to face her, revealing the shirtless, sunburnt photo she'd saved.

Oh shit.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione shrieked, dashing forward and summoning the phone from his hand. "How dare you go through my phone?"  
Harry at least had the decency to look ashamed. "I was worried about you, 'Mione."  
"So the solution was to invade my privacy?!"  
"You said make yourself at home?"  
"You know perfectly well that is not what I meant!" She pointed her wand at him and narrowed her eyes menacingly.  
Harry raised his hands defensively. "Look, I'm sorry I went through your phone, Hermione. But can you please tell me what's going on? He's a wanted Death Eater!"  
"Oh, so that's why you're really down here then. You're chasing Malfoy!"  
"Yes, Hermione. He was seen down here in Australia. Where you are! I had to check that you were okay."  
"If you'd kept in contact with me, you would have known," Hermione retorted.  
"That's a low blow, Hermione. You were the one who left us!" Harry argued. Hermione felt all the lightness in her evaporate and her resolve crumble as her hands trembled.

"Hermione," Harry began, softening as he took in the broken-hearted witch in front of him. "I'm sorry. But Malfoy's dangerous. Don't you remember what he did?"  
"Of course. How could I forget?" Hermione replied hollowly, glancing down at _MUDBLOOD._ But she turned her eyes back to Harry. "But he's not like that anymore, Harry."  
"Yes, you've clearly gotten to know him much more personally," Harry snapped, unable to help himself, jerking his head at the phone. Hermione shot him a quelling glare.  
Harry tried a different tack, "Hermione, the allegations against him are pretty severe…"  
"He's innocent, Harry." Hermione said firmly.  
"Look, you guys might have ...I dunno… gotten together or something," Harry scrubbed the back of his head awkwardly and swallowed, "But you shouldn't let that cloud your judgement. You can't possibly know-"  
"I interrogated him with veritaserum." Hermione interrupted. "So yes, I do know. And we are most definitely not together."  
"Oh," Harry replied, looking utterly bewildered and not quite sure which statement to respond to. He chose the safer of the two options. "You _interrogated_ him?"  
"What would you have done, Harry? I took him to see my parents and then I read the article about the stuff in France and-"  
"Wait a minute, you took him to meet your parents?!" Harry's eyes bugged out of his head.  
"Well no, we just sort of watched them in my car for a bit. Undercover."  
Harry looked even more perplexed. "Undercover?"  
"Since I can't interact with them without risking damaging their minds, I just watch them sometimes. From a distance. To make sure they're okay. Malfoy was helping me."  
"He knows about your parents?"  
"I told him about them. We've sort of become friends. Or at least, we were. Until I spiked his drink with veritaserum and then interrogated him," Hermione finished in a rush, the words tumbling out of her mouth as she nervously wrung her hands in front of her.

Harry pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily.  
"Okay, 'Mione. Start at the beginning."

* * *

Hermione perused the shelves of the library, examining the tomes of orthopaedic surgical procedures when a hand clamped over her mouth and shoved her backwards. Hermione found herself pinned against the shelf, staring into Malfoy's steely grey eyes.  
"What an odd coincidence," he began silkily, cocking his head slightly as he leisurely looked over her face. "How very fortunate I am to meet _two_ of the Golden Trio today."  
"Malfoy," she gasped when he removed his hand. "What on earth are you talking about?"  
"Don't give me that bullshit," he narrowed his eyes.  
Hermione glared back at him with equal ferocity. "I don't want any of your bullshit either, Malfoy." His mouth twitched with wry amusement.  
"Let go of me," she added, straining her wrists in frustration. Malfoy's fingers only dug in more painfully.  
"Not until you explain why Boy Wonder showed up on my doorstep this morning."  
"He did what?!" Hermione squeaked, her eyes widening in shock. "What did you do to him?!" Malfoy clamped his hand back over her mouth to avoid drawing attention.  
"Quiet, Granger," He tutted with a raised eyebrow. "You all of people should know how to behave in a library." He cast a silencing charm around them and then fixed with a predatory gaze. "So, care to explain?" He slackened his grip on her wrists and Hermione shoved him away viciously.  
"Don't touch me," she warned, her fingers curling around her wand in her back pocket. Malfoy slowly raised his hands in mock surrender.  
"I didn't tell Harry where you were," Hermione snapped, straightening her blouse with one hand while keeping the other firmly on her wand. "He was down here already and he found you."  
Malfoy raised his eyebrows, his eyes suggestively trailing down Hermione's body.  
"Chasing you, you git." Her cheeks flushed at his innuendo.  
"Thanks to his _anonymous_ witness," he replied coldly, his eyes snapping back to Hermione's face. Hermione could have sworn her flesh was being stripped away under his accusing stare.  
Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Do you honestly think I would tip the Ministry off and then illegally question you with veritaserum? I tried to warn you that the aurors were looking for you."  
"When was that exactly?" He cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Was that when you were spiking my drink or when you had me tied up in your house?"  
"I made a mistake, Malfoy. I said I was sorry."  
He simply crossed his arms and stared at her. Hermione stepped up to him, and stood on her tiptoes to bring herself to his eye level.  
"But here's some friendly advice. If you don't want people to think that you're a still a Death Eater, don't slam them up against bookshelves and threaten them."  
"I haven't even begun to threaten you, Granger," he warned in a chilling voice.  
"Oh cry me a river," Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes. "You don't scare me, Malfoy. You can't even handle an espresso without sugar."  
"You should have used that line when you were testifying at my murder trial." He moved closer, making Hermione feel uneasy despite her bravado.  
"What can you possibly do to me that hasn't already been done?" She challenged, defiantly spreading her arms and revealing _MUDBLOOD._ This time, Malfoy didn't flinch, merely pushing up his own sleeve to reveal his own mark. A mirrored pair of ugly scars.  
"Make no mistake, Malfoy," she continued, standing her ground, "I didn't survive the war as the most wanted mudblood without being able to look after myself."  
"Everyone has a weak spot, Granger. Something they're most afraid to lose," He eyed her meaningfully.  
"Well," Hermione brushed him aside, ignoring the way her stomach was knotting and her mind reeling at Malfoy's new behaviour. "I'm going to class before you come up with any clever ideas about getting me killed." She stormed to the end of the row before whirling around.

"Or worse, expelled."

With that, she stepped outside Malfoy's silencing charm, though she did catch his silent, mocking laughter in the corner of her eye as she strode out of the library.

* * *

Hermione looked up from her couch and her anatomy textbook at the sound of her doorbell.

"Harry, you complete and utter idiot!" She cried as she opened the door and took in his black eye and scabbed lip. She ushered him inside and pulled out her wand.  
"Oh no, just a bit of ice'll do," Harry waved his hand vaguely over his face. "Bit of practise for you, eh?" He joked weakly.  
Hermione shot him a glare that could have silenced a mandrake.  
"I was just doing some auror drills-"  
"Harry James Potter," Hermione warned with deadly calm. "Malfoy already confronted me."  
"What? When?" Harry did a double take, and winced at the motion as it pulled on some of the tender parts of his face. "What do you mean he confronted you? Did he hurt you?" Harry asked worriedly, looking over Hermione for injuries. Hermione internally debated telling what had happened but decided to let it go. She could handle herself. Instead, she focussed on the real problem at hand.

Harry Potter's sheer idiocy.

"I saw him this morning while I was in the library. That was hours ago! What the bloody hell have you been doing?! Why haven't you healed yourself?"  
"I had other priorities, 'Mione," Harry pleaded.  
"Like what, exactly?" Hermione crossed her arms, and tapped her foot expectantly.  
"I threw the French and US ministries off the trail."  
"You, you what?" Hermione asked in surprise.  
"We had a man to man chat."  
"And what does that even mean? That you punched the shit out of each other?"  
"More or less," Harry replied wryly. "The point is, I believe he's innocent too. Of the stuff in France and the US I mean. So I'm going to help him. Even if he is a ferrety little git."  
"How can you be sure he's not just going to run off though? Now that you know where he is, with his broken parole and everything?"  
"We made a deal," Harry said evasively.  
"What deal, Harry?"  
"Nothing to worry about," he smiled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I've got to run, my portkey back is in a minute. Write to us, 'Mione. And come back and visit."

Hermione hugged Harry tightly, broken-hearted that her dearest friend was leaving her so soon. "I'll do better, I promise."

"And try to forgive, Ron," Harry begged.  
"That I can't promise," Hermione replied flatly, feeling her heart duct tape itself back together.  
Harry's eyes crinkled sadly, "He still loves you, 'Mione."

It must have been that cheap spell-o-tape Ron used in second year because her heart collapsed again–with a Ron shaped hole in it.

"He's got a funny way of showing it," Hermione grumbled. Truthfully, she did miss Ron. She missed his jokes and easy smile.

She missed everyone. She missed Sunday lunch at the Burrow: George chasing Teddy around the garden; Molly bustling away in the kitchen; even Arthur asking her about iPhones. She felt lost without Ginny's happy gossip and chatter. She felt like she was drowning without Harry's quiet understanding and support.

She missed being able to do magic whenever she felt like it.

"You put him in a hard position, 'Mione. You have to see that," Harry said gently. "You'd only really been seriously dating for a little while and you wanted him to give up everything-his family, his friends, his career, his entire way of life."

"You're both proud, and stubborn," Harry told her firmly, cutting off Hermione's protest that she wasn't stubborn. "You both have to compromise and forgive each other, or you'll lose each other."  
Hermione's mind flitted to grey eyes for just a second.  
"Yeah," she agreed, shaking herself. "I'm working on it.

* * *

Hermione retreated to the study area designated solely for medical students and sank into one of the comfortable bean bags with a grateful sigh. She was feeling overwhelmed and needed to process in peace.

"Oh my god," Emma groaned, flopping down next to Hermione. "Ortho is fucking shit. Nothing but glorified chippies."  
Hermione, not understanding a word, nodded sagely.  
"Fuck med," Emma continued dramatically. "Seriously. I'm dying. I'm dead. Take my pulse."  
"Did you say med... or men?" Hermione teased.  
"Hermione!" She chastised, bolting upright from the bean bag to glare mutinously. "We hate men. But also both," Emma winked conspiratorially. "Rich men that I can take advantage of to pay for my expensive ass med degree."  
Hermione laughed, feeling some of the tension ease in her shoulders.  
"At least you get HECS," Hermione smiled sympathetically.  
"Oh shit, I forgot you're international," Emma smacked her forehead. "How do you afford it? Your parents must be fucking rich as."

Hermione went white. Her mouth felt like it was full of sawdust. She couldn't help it. She swallowed nervously as she tried to think of something to say.

"Oh," Emma said awkwardly, taking in Hermione's ashen face. "Sorry… Did I say something?"  
Hermione waved her apologies away, taking a sip of her latte to avoid having to reply.

"Anyway," Emma continued brightly, changing the subject, "I've got a mate in one of the engineering societies who's got a few spare tickets for the ball if you want to go?"  
Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "I was meant to be going with someone else," she mumbled.  
Emma grabbed her shoulder, "Not fuck boy? The pommy bastard?!"  
Hermione nodded mutely.  
"Well then you have to go," Emma declared. "And you have to look hot as fuck. And make him realise what a dickhead he is." She punctuated each point with a little poke in Hermione's shoulder. Hermione snorted, nearly spraying her coffee.  
"You don't understand," Hermione sighed. "I was the fuckboy. I'm the one who ended up hurting him."  
"Well then same as above. Make him realise what he's missing and he'll come back."  
"Not likely," Hermione murmured sadly.

"C'mon Hermione," Emma cajoled, "It'll be fun."  
"I need to study."  
"Bullshit. You're practically half a semester ahead. It's like you're magic or something."  
Hermione flushed in alarm. "Magic? Don't be silly."  
"So come to the ball."  
"I don't have a date though."  
"Hermione! It's the 21st Century. You do not need a date!" Emma growled. "You just set feminism back like a hundred years."  
"Okay, okay." Hermione surrendered, hands raised. "Although I don't think going solo is going to smash the patriarchy exactly."  
"You are forgiven," Emma intoned magnanimously, "So long as you smash some fine ass at the ball. And I know just the guy."

* * *

They had pre-drinks at Emma's share house.

"What is this?" Hermione gasped, her stomach coiling at the vile concoction she'd been handed.  
"Goon punch, Hermione." Emma laughed. "Cask wine mixed with shitty fruit juice plus some vodka and leftover rum I had. Staple of every Aussie uni party ever."  
"It's revolting."  
"That's a national classic," Emma replied in an offended tone. "Fine then, shots it is."  
"You Australians have a serious binge drinking problem."  
"You English are such swots," Emma replied in a terrible imitation of Hermione's accent, already a little tipsy.  
"Fine then, shots it is," Hermione shot back, in an equally terrible attempt at an Australian accent, accepting the plastic shot glass handed to her with a mystery spirit inside.

By the time they piled into the Uber to head to the ball, Hermione was feeling buzzed and a tad unsteady. After a couple of the shots, goon punch had seemed rather more desirable, so she'd had a few of those as well.

"It's important to drink before the ball," Emma explained. "You only get shit champagne, beer and wine and even then the bar tab runs out before the end of the night."  
Hermione nodded sagely.  
"So I came prepared," Emma whispered, pulling a flask out of her clutch with a wink. The two girls dissolved into giggles and took turns taking swigs until the arrived at the golf course.

Hermione felt spectacular. Thank Morganna for Emma. She had selected a dress for Hermione that Hermione had flat out refused the first time she saw it. It was mostly sheer, nude material, with long sleeves adorned with black sequin detailing. The nude slip was adorned by more of the sequins, gradually gathering in intensity into a pure black, glittering train that floated behind her. The dress clung to every inch of Hermione's thin, angular frame which was exaggerated by Hermione's elegant updo (thanks Sleekeasy potion). Emma had taken this to another level again, with heavy contouring making Hermione's cheekbones even more pronounced, a dark purple lip and smokey eyeshadow with false lashes. Alcohol gave her the courage to sway her hips as she swept up the staircase to the function, her mouth twitching in amusement as she felt the eyes of several men and women follow her.

It was like Yule Ball all over again. She still had it.

Emma dragged Hermione around to different groups, introducing her to other students she knew and introducing herself to strangers. They danced and downed champagnes, losing themselves in the music and the night. They ended up meeting up with Daniel. Hermione apologised for leaving him at pool so abruptly, which he waved off with a friendly grin. They threaded their way through the crowd to get more drinks for the group together.

"Hey, Hermione." He shouted over the pumping music and chatter of the crowd. " How would a Roman order five drinks?"  
"How?"  
He held up two fingers in a peace sign and winked.  
"Oh, it's a V! Like the Roman numeral!" Hermione giggled, and wobbled a little. Daniel tried to steady her but he was even less steady. They collapsed against the bar in giggles as the harried bartenders filled champagne and beer glasses left and right.

For the first time in a long time, Hermione felt relaxed and free. No doubt thanks to the alcohol she'd rapidly consumed. Well she had to get her ticket's worth, right? Oh, it was free. Even better.

Somehow Hermione found herself dancing with a handsome engineering student. A little too close for her liking, even in her inebriated, disorientated state.  
"I need some fresh air," Hermione gasped, "It's so hot in here!" As a group, they headed for the balcony.

"Hey, Draco! How you going, mate?" Daniel called out to a couple at the balcony edge.

Hermione felt her good feelings evaporate in a cloud of steam, like molten steel plunged into cold water. She had no choice but to follow as the group went over to greet Malfoy.

"Daniel," Malfoy drawled in a voice that indicated he clearly didn't welcome the intrusion. "And Granger. What an unexpected pleasure. Have you met, Elise?" He indicated the tall blonde standing next to him. She stepped forward to shake hands as introductions were made, her long tan leg slipping out of the thigh high split in her navy dress as she moved.

In that way that only women know, Elise sized up the competition in the room and honed in on Hermione. With a cursory look over Emma, she leaned against Malfoy more securely, sliding an arm around his waist. Hermione hated how that drew attention to well his suit fit his long lean frame… which reminded her of that topless selfie… Hermione shook herself.

"Bitch," Emma hissed under her breath to Hermione, nodding her head towards Elise. Hermione silently nodded in agreement.

"I'll grab us all a round," Daniel announced, dragging along the rest of his engineering friends to the bar.

"I need to pee," Emma announced, "Come with me, won't you hun?" She grabbed Elise's arm and steered her towards the bathrooms before she could protest, throwing a wink over her shoulder at Hermione and mouthing _go get 'em.  
_

That left them alone on the balcony. Malfoy broke the silence first.  
"I didn't expect to see you here, Granger."  
"Even I leave the library sometimes, Malfoy."  
He looked slowly up and down her figure. "You should leave the library more often, Granger. What have you done to your hair?"  
"Sleekeasy potion," she waved offhandedly, causing her to slightly lose balance. Malfoy's hands instinctively moved to steady her.  
"You're drunk already," he observed, his tone disapproving.  
"You're drunk already," she mimicked, screwing up her nose. "Besides, I can drink if I want to." Hermione pushed his hands off her arms in favour of leaning against the cool stone of the balcony railing as she took another sip of her champagne. The steady, not moving, balcony railing.

"Your bowtie matches your date," Hermione observed mildly, hoping none of the bitterness she felt leaked through. "Cute."  
His expression tightened, "So, who's your date then? Daniel?"  
"Jealous, Malfoy?" Hermione looked up at him from under her long lashes seductively. At least she hoped seductively.  
"I did ask first," he murmured, moving closer to her and placing his hands on the balcony either side of her hips. Hermione tried to ignore the way her heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest. "You look incredible."  
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Asking me… threatening me… not very good at following through though, are you, Malfoy?  
Malfoy raised his own brows."You know, we didn't get to finish our conversation the other day, Granger."  
"Are you going to hold me over the edge of the balcony and finish threatening me then, Malfoy?" Hermione wondered aloud, nonchalantly examining her nails. "A bit passe, isn't it?"  
"You're the one in danger of just falling over the balcony edge, Granger," he replied. "Besides, now that I know your weakness is your fear of getting expelled…" Malfoy smirked, "That's seriously swotty. Even for you, Granger."  
"Fucking prat," Hermione muttered, taking a gulp from her drink and turning so that she faced out over the golf course.

Malfoy stayed with his arms either side of her as they enjoyed the cool evening breeze for a few minutes before he spoke again.  
"You know, I moved to Australia to get _away_ from wizarding Britain."  
"I'm aware," Hermione replied waspishly.  
"And yet, I've seen Boy Wonder twice in a week."  
Hermione turned her head to look at him in surprise, gripping the balcony for support.  
"Merlin forbid I have to deal with Weaselbee too."  
Hermione ignored that. "Why were you talking to Harry?" She demanded.  
"Well," Malfoy drawled, "We had a rather odd conversation."  
"By conversation do you mean traded hexes and jinxes by any chance?" Hermione asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
"Shockingly, Granger, Boy Wonder is capable of stringing together a sentence," Malfoy drawled, leaning against the railing.  
"I'm more interested in what sentence _you_ strung together to keep him from taking you back to Azkaban." He shot her an angry look.  
Hermione shrugged in response, "Well you did break your parole."  
Malfoy conceded the point with a nod, and continued. "Actually he came back to tell me that he was going to help me clear my name. That he was throwing the French and the Americans off long enough to gather the evidence."  
Hermione nodded slowly.  
"So actually, I owe him a great deal of gratitude," Malfoy pronounced with a look of immense distaste.  
"You'd probably get along if you weren't both such gits throwing hexes at each other. And punches." Hermione declared with drunken profoundness. "You're both seekers. You're both men. You're both gits."  
Malfoy snorted with amusement, and continued. "And then he asked me a most interesting question."  
"Let me guess, 'Where are the bodies'?" Hermione suggested, her words slightly slurred, leaning closer conspiratorially.

Malfoy rolled his eyes in irritation.

"Alright fine, Malfoy. I'll bite." She collapsed back against the balcony and turned away again. "What did he ask you?"  
"He asked what my intentions were towards you."  
Hermione froze. "Why," she asked slowly, not daring to look at Malfoy as she felt a flush creep up her cheeks again at the memory of the photo saved on her phone, "Would he ask a thing like that?"  
"Well naturally I assured him that I had no intentions of maiming the brains of the Golden Trio. Or her parents for that matter."  
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.  
"But-"  
-She inhaled sharply again.  
"Potter informed me that he wasn't asking about that." She remained motionless, resting her arms on the balcony. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh as the breeze washed over her, contrasting with Malfoy's heat at her back.  
"What do you want from me, Malfoy?" she whispered, turning to face him and having to tilt her face up to meet his eyes-despite the fact that she was wearing heels. She bit her lower lip slightly.  
He stared at her intently for a moment. "I'll tell you what I don't want," he replied matter of factly. "I don't want to be your little stand-in Potter."

Hermione was completely taken aback. "Pot-wait what?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed. You've found yourself a little replacement Ginny in that girl from your med classes. You like Daniel because he reminds you of Ron."  
"That's… that's not true," Hermione protested, confusion and hurt warring in her brain. "Anyway, weren't you the one who approached me because _you_ needed magical company?"  
"Yes," Malfoy conceded, "But it soon became clear that you and I were very different people who wanted very different things."  
"Why don't you just come out and say it then, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded.

He shook his head, pushing off the balcony and away from Hermione and heading back into the ballroom, slipping his arm around the waiting Elise's waist.

Hermione's heart felt like it was made of hot lead. She weaved her way back inside through the crowd, head reeling-both from Malfoy and the alcohol. Feeling all the heartache of the last year building again and past the point of caring, she snatched two glasses as the waiter strode past and downed them in quick succession. She did the same with the next waiter who strode past in the opposite direction. And again a third time. And then she nicked a couple of shots off the bar for good measure.

Hermione staggered down the fire escape, hoping that it would allow her to escape from the crowd. She tripped on her long skirts and fell to the ground. Hard. Wincing with pain, she tried to stand but the room was swimming. She reached for her phone to call Emma, only, where the fuck was her clutch? She managed to heave herself to her feet, and limp. Under the balcony. How did she get here?

"Hey love, are you alright?" Someone asked, gently holding Hermione's arm.  
"I… my ankle…" she murmured, finding it hard to speak. She was back on the floor, the roof of the balcony swirling above her.  
"Who're you with?"

Hermione's head lolled sideways out of her control. She giggled, "It's a free country, I'm a free woman and I got free tickets," Hermione slurred slightly. "I don't need a date." She attempted to snap her fingers and laughed.

"Let me have a look at your ankle then, love." Hermione was vaguely aware of someone unfastening her heels, and pushing her dress up her calves. She felt cool air on her thighs.  
"No, no," Hermione moaned. "My ankle."  
"Shh, love. You're alright."

Hermione's limbs wouldn't respond. She felt like her body was rocking in the surf and she was powerless to stop it. She felt hot, sticky breath, coating her face and neck. She rolled her head to try to get away, feeling tears on her cheek. She needed her wand.

"You're alright, shhh now."

 _Help me._


	6. Relationship Psychology

Hermione awoke with her eyes glued shut.

In a panic, she tried to raise her arms. They were bound to her sides. Struggling to free herself, she writhed until her arms broke free from her restraints. Her heart was pounding, her head was spinning and she felt nauseous. Scrubbing viciously at her eyelids, she managed to prise them open.

She blinked in confusion. Dark grey sheets. Her hands blackened, as though with soot. To her left, a bottle resting atop a black bedside table with 'drink me' tied around the neck. She wasn't tied up, just tangled in unfamiliar sheets.

This wasn't her room. She had no idea how she got here. She tried to remember what happened, but her last memory was of drinking with Emma in the Uber.

This wasn't Emma's room either.

Hermione tried to swallow down her rising panic and rising bile. She wasn't successful at either. She shoved the sheets off her bare legs and sprinted to the door to the right, desperately hoping that it opened into a bathroom.

Sweet Morganna, it did. Hermione collapsed in front of the toilet, yanked up the seat and emptied her stomach contents. What little she had left, that was. The sour taste in her mouth told her she'd been throwing up already. Not that she remembered doing that either. Kneeling, she rested her forehead against the cool porcelain and moaned. _Praying to the porcelain gods,_ as her mother would have called it.

"I see the sleeping beauty has awakened."

The lid fell back down on her head with such a thump that Hermione swore it split her skull in two.

"Fuck my life," she whispered into the toilet bowl, not daring to look back at an undoubtedly smug and smirking Malfoy.

 _Oh Morganna, I didn't. I didn't…_

"You look like shit," he remarked. "Did you drink the pepper up potion I left you?"

"Hadn't quite gotten around to it," Hermione muttered, still too nauseous to even contemplate moving from her porcelain haven of safety.

"I wrote 'drink me' on it."

"Very Carroll. Also quite suspicious."

She heard Malfoy leave the room and pad back a moment later, setting the bottle from the table just in the corner of her vision, along with a towel, her clutch and the bag she'd left at Emma's the day before.

"Why do you have my stuff?" Hermione asked in alarm. Her stomach voiced its displeasure at her movement.

"Oh, Malfoy," He imitated in a high pitched voice. "Thank you for taking care of my vomiting mess last night and going to my muggle friend's this morning to pick up my clean clothes. Oh, and my wand. Which I'd lost. Before I got arrested by aurors for leaving my wand with a muggle." He switched back to his normal, deeper and heavily sarcastic register. "Oh, Granger, you're very welcome."

Hermione wondered how badly she would splinch herself if she apparated at this very second.

"So, how do you feel?" He asked quietly. For some reason, his quietness filled her with dread.

"About as good as I look," Hermione replied, gingerly reaching for the potion. She gave it a tentative sniff.

"Merlin, it's just bloody pepper up," Malfoy growled in exasperation. Hermione drank the potion, hoping that she could keep it down long enough for it to take effect. Already she could feel the pounding in her lessening and the room settling a little; more like riding a ferry across the channel rather than a 1900s expedition to Antarctica. So still awful.

"Malfoy…" Hermione began tentatively, still afraid to lift her head but wrapping her arms protectively around her chest."Did we? We didn't…"

"No," Malfoy replied vehemently, startling Hermione and truthfully, stinging her pride. He took a deep breath, and continued more softly. "No, nothing happened between us. You don't remember last night, do you?"

"No," Hermione admitted in a small voice.

Malfoy paused for a moment. "Why don't you clean up and then we'll talk." She heard him close the bathroom door behind him.

For some reason, the sudden silence was worse.

Hermione, now feeling the effects of the potion more strongly, pulled herself to her feet and inspected herself in the mirror.

She nearly screamed.

Her purple lipstick was smudged across her face, her foundation had turned flaky and patchy and several pimples had erupted on her face thanks to staying up late and sleeping with her makeup on. She had black tracks of mascara down her cheeks so she'd been crying at some point. Her false eyelashes were curling up at the ends, half peeled off from when she'd scrubbed her eyes earlier. The sleekeasy potion had worn off, leaving her with a mass of errant frizz and a wild tangle of curls escaping in all directions from her formerly stylish updo.

And she was wearing a Slytherin Quidditch jersey with Malfoy's name emblazoned across it.

"Fuck. My. Life." She groaned to the mirror. "Nothing happened my ass." She peeled off the remainder of her lashes and began yanking the pins out of her hair, wincing as they pulled at her scalp.

That was when she noticed the finger shaped bruising on her wrist.

Suddenly Hermione felt unspeakably dirty. With trembling hands she ripped off the jersey and climbed into the shower, turning the water to full steam. She stood for several minutes, just letting the scalding water cascade over her. The stinging of her skin felt like a distant sensation, as though she were watching the experience from the next room over. She had no idea how long she'd been standing there for. She'd lost all sense of time. She wasn't thinking of anything particularly. She felt empty. Numb.

And then Hermione did what she always did. She compartmentalised and formed a logical procedure of tasks to complete. Mechanically, she shampooed her hair. She separated her hair into sections, poured out the exact amount of conditioner, and combed it through the ends with her fingers. Then she began soaping her body. Beginning with her face, scrubbing it free of makeup, moving down her neck and shoulders and along her arms. Gingerly soaping over _MUDBLOOD._ She continued all the way down to her feet, where she meticulously washed between her toes and then rinsed herself in the same order. Then it was time to rinse the conditioner.

By the time Hermione had finished her labours, she was in control again. The ritual, methodical order calmed her, gave her something to focus on. She towelled herself in the same order. Damn Malfoy's towels were soft and fluffy. Rich bastard.

She pulled clean clothes out of her overnight bag, slipping into jeans and a soft t-shirt. She combed her hair delicately, knowing that if she left it to dry naturally it would be completely unmanageable. She brushed her teeth, and applied concealer over her dark circles and acne. It may have been a moot point, given that Malfoy had already seen her at her worst - puking her guts out the night before, being tortured in his house, covered in blood and grime at the Battle of Hogwarts - but it made Hermione feel a little better.

She pulled her wand out of her clutch and slipped it into her back pocket as well. That made Hermione feel much better.

Summoning her Gryffindor courage, she padded quietly out to the kitchen. Malfoy was making tea at the breakfast bar, so she slipped onto a stool and tried to make conversation.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in a t-shirt before. Who are you and what have you done with Malfoy?" She quipped.

He shot her a wry glance. "This is my house, Granger. Even I don't wear oxfords all the time."

"You look good in both. Either." Hermione blurted in response, before turning red. "Not at the same time, obviously. That would be silly."

"Obviously," he agreed. The moment's silence between them stretched on. Hermione looked around the kitchen, taking in the stainless steel appliances and spotless counters.

"Toast?" He asked, obviously feeling the awkwardness as well. Hermione nodded and gratefully accepted the cup of tea. He began pulling butter and spreads from the fridge and pantry while Hermione sipped.

"Vegemite?" She wrinkled her nose when she saw him pull out the little yellow container.

"I like it," he defended. "When in Rome and all that."

Hermione snorted. "You can't handle an espresso but you enjoy that godawful yeast stuff?"

"You've peppered-up a bit _too_ much," Malfoy growled disdainfully.

Hermione's brain processed the hint, but her mouth seemed to be working of its own accord. "So, do you normally make breakfast for girls in the morning?" She teased.

Joking.

Half-joking.

Not really joking at all.

Malfoy looked up and raised one eyebrow, _Really Granger?_ He shook his head, "No, this would be a first."

"Lucky me."

"I don't plan to make a habit of it, so don't get any ideas." He warned.

"Must have been a heck of a night to change your mind," Hermione offered lightly.

Malfoy tensed for a second, but then recovered and continued making breakfast.

It didn't go unnoticed by Hermione.

"Malfoy, what happened last night?" She asked softly.

"What's the last thing you remember?" He asked, methodically buttering and spreading jam on toast without making eye contact.

"Drinks at Emma's house." He slid the plate over to her and began working on the next piece of toast. "Malfoy, how did I end up here? How did I get these?" She held up her bruised wrist, with her heart in her mouth, afraid of the answer.

"Merlin, Granger!" He exploded, slamming his plate on the counter causing Hermione to jump. "For the so called 'brightest witch of our age', you can be really fucking stupid!" He shoved his plate away, letting it smash on the floor. It was a fairly accurate metaphor for Hermione's heart. She recoiled, pulling her arm back to her chest defensively, feeling tears sting her eyes. She pushed her stool from the bar with a loud scrape and made to leave. He turned around and caught her arm.

"Granger, I'm sorry." He started, and ran his hand through his hair with frustration. "I'm just really fucking pissed."

"I can see that," Hermione replied formally, falling back on British stiff upper lip and etiquette to keep the tears from her voice. "Thank you for your kind hospitality."

"Oh, don't start that," he snapped. "Just… sit down. Okay?" He steered her back to the stool, and pulled it out for her. Hermione sat down with a half smile, feeling uneasy but appreciating the chivalry.

He took a moment to vanish the shattered plate, calming himself with a deep breath. "Someone assaulted you last night, Granger. At the ball."

Hermione's world stopped.

"I found them, on top of you. You were so drunk you were barely conscious. He'd pushed your dress up and-" Malfoy took an angry, shaky breath. Hermione felt sick.

"Did he-?"

Malfoy shook his head. "He hadn't gotten that far yet. I cast a few diagnostic healing spells to check." He added apologetically.

Hermione's stomach roiled. She tried desperately to recall what had happened, but there was nothing. Just a blacked out period of her life. It frightened her. No, it _terrified_ her. She felt naked, vulnerable, powerless.

 _Dear god, is this what it's like for my parents?!_

Hermione stared at her chipped fingernail polish for a moment, mentally noting which nails needed repair. Compartmentalising. She slowly lifted her gaze to Malfoy.

"What did you do then?" She asked calmly.

Malfoy looked entirely unnerved by her placid demeanour. "Well... well, I beat the shit out of him." He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, not quite meeting her eyes-so reminiscent of Harry-awaiting Hermione's reaction.

Hermione blinked, but otherwise made no response.

"...And I used a few hexes and curses on him. And I'm not sorry. I don't care that he was a muggle. I guess that's just the Death Eater in me." He added defiantly, the words tumbling out in a rush. Eyes flashing, daring her to challenge him.

Hermione considered this for a moment.

"What did you… what curse did you use?" She asked cautiously.

"Well I didn't _avada_ him," he shrugged, "Obviously. But nothing any Ministry would be too pleased about so…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"So then I tried to take you back to your friend, but you were basically comatose and muttering about the war and dear Aunty Bella…"

Hermione winced.

"So I tried to take you back to your place, but damn to hell Granger if I could figure out how to get past your wards!"

"You could have left me on my doorstep," Hermione offered helpfully.

Malfoy shot her a quelling look.

"So the only place I could take you to hide from the aurors was my place. I figure you don't have any tracking spells on you since the aurors haven't rocked up yet."

"No, I don't have any tracking spells on me. But Malfoy, cursing some muggle was a stupid risk," Hermione said softly. "The aurors were already looking for you."

"I'd do it again. In a heartbeat. I wish I'd done worse." His grey eyes flashed.

"Careful, you sound like a Gryffindor there," Hermione teased half-heartedly.

"Well, you could bloody well be more like a Slytherin," he shot back ferociously. "What were you thinking, getting that drunk? You had no wand and you were alone. It could have been much, much worse, Granger. How the bloody hell did you survive the fucking war?"

Hermione bit her lip and closed her eyes as she counted to ten to try to hold her composure.

"I'm not surviving the war anymore, Malfoy. That's the whole fucking point." She exhaled bitterly. "I want to live a normal life where I don't check around every corner because someone's waiting on the other side to kill me. I just didn't want to feel anymore." She realised her fingers were sticky. She looked down. She'd been shredding her toast between her fingers without realising. "I… I should get going."

"No, stay. Please."

A faint suggestion of a memory tugged at Hermione's mind. Someone carefully unzipping her dress for her, pulling it down over her shoulders and handing her a soft, warm shirt. Leading her to bed and placing the sheets over her before turning to leave.

"Please stay," she whispered.

The feeling of another body climbing into bed, shifting the mattress with their weight and wrapping their arms around her.

Hermione shook herself.

"It's not your fault," he sighed, deflating a little and lowering his voice. "I'm just angry that you put yourself at risk. At what he did to you."

"Thank you for saving me."

"Don't thank me," he snorted bitterly. "I should have been there faster, stopped him from touching you at all. I should have done something when you were screaming on the drawing room floor."

The elephant in the room, squeezing the air out of both of them.

Hermione opened her mouth, and then shut it. Logically, she knew there was little he could have done that night without getting himself and his family killed. Truthfully, some part of her did blame him for standing there. Just watching. She decided to leave that for now. Compartmentalise and continue.

"How could you have stopped him? You didn't know where I was, or what was happening." Hermione reasoned. Not that she knew why she was trying to make Malfoy feel better.

"But I did know," he replied grimly. "I saw you stagger down the fire escape."

"I don't follow…"

"It's Potter you should be thanking, not me."

Hermione cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at Malfoy. "Okay, now I'm really lost."

Draco flashed his own wrist, where Hermione could make out thin white scars, crossed and interwoven.

"Potter made me make an unbreakable vow. He didn't believe me when I said I had no intentions to harm you." He scowled furiously and shook his wrist, as though he could shake away the implications of the vow. "He made me swear that I would not harm, nor allow you to come to harm, either by my actions or inactions. If I didn't, he was going to turn me over to the aurors."

Hermione was in shock. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

"So when I saw you go stumbling down that staircase, and I felt my scar heat up, I assumed it was because you were being bloody stupid and risking breaking your ankle and the vow was forcing me to act because sodding idiot Potter was so deliberately fucking vague and broad. I took my time excusing myself, and strolling after you, all the while cursing Potter."

"And then I finally caught up to you and you were- fucking hell, Granger." He shook his head and threw his cup into the sink. It didn't smash, which seemed to infuriate him even more.

Hermione didn't know how to react.

"I'm angry at myself," he admitted at last, breathing heavily while resting on the sink. "I didn't do anything in the war and I was too slow, too selfish to save you this time as well." He turned around and came back over to Hermione. "I should have taken you to a hospital… I was healing you last night, but I left these bruises here. So that you had some evidence if you wanted to go the police to make a statement. I can come with you and make a statement too."

"Won't that just make it easy for the aurors to find you?" Hermione asked, her world spinning too wildly to take in anything else.

"Yes," Malfoy acknowledged. "But that's the consequence for my actions. I've run long enough."

"Malfoy, what did you do to him?"

"Well, I punched him a few times. And then I scorched his groin with a modified fire curse. And then I obliviated him to throw the aurors off my trail a bit."

Hermione took a deep breath and considered what Malfoy had told her. She nodded decisively, pulled out her wand and healed her bruised wrist.

"Granger!" He snapped, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I don't want to go to the police and make a statement," she said quietly. "I think you dealt out better justice than I would probably get in the courts. This way I don't have to relive it. So thank you."

"Don't thank me, Granger. I was magically compelled to save you. And I did a shitty job at it."

"You brought me back here to look after me."

"Again, magically compelled in case you died of alcohol poisoning. And fleeing the aurors. Noble."

"You held me while I cried last night."

"You said you didn't remember anything," he snarled accusingly, grey eyes narrowing furiously.

"I wasn't sure if I was remembering or making things up, but thanks for confirming it." Hermione slipped off her stool and crossed the floor to Malfoy. "You're a good man, Malfoy. Better than anyone gives you credit for. Especially yourself." She slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. He paused awkwardly for a moment, before his own arms encircled her and pulled her tight against him. "Thank you," she whispered against his chest. Hermione felt the tension in her body melt away and her mind settle.

"So are you okay?" He asked after a moment. Hermione pulled away and nodded.

"I guess so." Hermione wasn't really sure how she felt, or what to say.

"You know, there are worse things than having you magically bound to protect me," She blurted out in an attempt to fill the silence, and then mentally kicked herself.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows.

"You're not a half-bad wizard," Hermione acknowledged. "You'd probably do an okay job, actually."

"You should write recommendation letters."

"I gave you a compliment, you prat."

"You suck at giving compliments."

Hermione glared. He raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Constructive criticism," he told her, with a smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Now eat your damn breakfast, that I so graciously made for you," he ordered. She hopped back onto the stool and began munching the remnants of her massacred toast. Again, she wasn't quite sure what to say to fill the silence, not quite sure how to navigate the tentative olive branch that had been extended. Were they friends again? Friends, but only under duress. Merlin that unbreakable vow complicated things.

Hermione made a mental note to punish a certain Harry James Potter appropriately.

Hermione realised Malfoy was watching her expectantly, so she rattled through her brain for something to say. Something mundane and uncomplicated.

"I'll wash your jersey for you when I get home," she said nonchalantly. And then froze.

 _Oh Morganna, I slept in his quidditch jersey. That implies shit. Fuck._

 _But nothing happened so it's okay._

Hermione forced herself to keep her face bland and casual, and leisurely looked over to Malfoy. She hoped her expression said _friend who casually sleeps in other friend's shirts. Just friends. Quidditch jersey friends. After all, she slept in the cannons jersey Ron had given her. Oh, no, not a friend example._

Merlin if her brain said the word 'friend' one more time, she'd avada herself.

Malfoy, on the other hand, snorted with laughter. "You absolutely refused to go to sleep unless you were wearing a quidditch jersey. You kept demanding to know where your Cannons shirt was. Honestly Granger, I thought you had taste."

 _Oh Merlin. Well done drunk, Hermione._

"I thought so too, but apparently I've lowered my standards to Slytherin jerseys." Hermione made a face.

Malfoy held his hand over his heart in dismay.

"Green suits you, you know," His grey eyes lightening and the corners of his eye slightly crinkly with his wry smile. Hermione felt the corners of her mouth tugging up as well in response.

"Blood status aside, you would have made an amazing Slytherin," he added.

"Wow, thanks."

"I'm serious, Granger. You lured me right into admitting to shit without even batting an eyelid. And I fell for it like a sodding Gryffindor."

"Maybe we should trade, you can wear Gryffindor red and I'll wear Slytherin green."

Malfoy made an overly dramatic face. "Red looks horrible on me."

"I'm not convinced green is good for me. I'm really more of a warm tone person. Like orange and yellow. Maybe I should have been a Hufflepuff." Hermione looked thoughtful.

"Don't insult yourself, Granger. At least put yourself in Ravenclaw. Even Gryffindor is better than a sodding 'Puff."

"House rivalry? Really, Malfoy?"

"Of course."  
"Child."  
"Am not. Swot," he grinned. "And anyway, you're only saying that about green because you were _literally_ green this morning."

"And therefore, looking terrible," Hermione argued.

"Nonsense. On any normal day, green would be your natural colour."

"You're only saying that because of the jersey effect."  
"The what now?"

"The jersey effect," she repeated.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I just made it up," Hermione admitted. "But it's essentially that when boys see a girl with messy hair wearing one of their shirts-preferably sport related- it boosts their ego, reinforces their masculinity and causes their testosterone to skyrocket, thereby affecting their ability to make rational judgement and increases the perceived hotness of the girl."

Malfoy looked perplexed, "That sounds… pretty reasonable, actually." He shrugged. "Merlin, Granger, leave it to you to make a girl's sexiness a biological theory. Although does it really work if you're all vomity and gross?"

"Yeah nah, probably not."

"You vomited so much, I was almost impressed. How does your tiny body even hold that much liquid?"

"Okay, I think we should stop talking about this now," Hermione grimaced, flushing red.

And then it was awkward again.

Merlin, what she wouldn't give for things to go back to how they were just a few short weeks ago. Back when she was friends with Draco Malfoy. Now there was a sentence Hermione thought she'd never say.

"Malfoy," she began tentatively.

"No, you can't keep my jersey. In fact, I don't even trust you to leave the house with it. Girls never bring shit back. Pans tried to steal it for years." He shuddered.

"I was going to ask whether you could forgive me, actually. Whether there's any chance that we could go back to being friends."

Malfoy looked at her searchingly. "I suppose," he conceded magnanimously.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. That was too easy.

"So long as you don't take my jersey," he warned, pointing his finger in her face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll wash it here." She padded back towards the bedroom, Malfoy in tow.

Pulling out her wand, she deftly applied a few cleaning charms. She was pulling the sheets back when she froze.

"Oh shit, Malfoy. What happened to your date?"

"I don't know, probably went home with somebody else." He shrugged from against the doorway.

"I'm sorry," Hermione offered.

Malfoy snorted, "No you're not. You have all the subtlety of a flobberworm, Granger. You were ready to turn her into mincemeat."

"Was not," she protested vehemently, a traitorous blush creeping up her neck. "I barely even know her."

"Really? It almost looked like you were jealous, Granger."

"You're kidding yourself."

"Maybe," Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly, a wicked smirk across his face. "Maybe not."

"Witty. Most eloquent." Hermione snapped, viciously tugging at the sheets before forcing herself to be calm. Pepper-up potion had limits after all. And she wasn't helping her case. She turned around with a sweet smile, "Besides, didn't you nearly crush my poor date's hand? Was that really necessary, Malfoy?"

"No, probably not," he drawled, looking entirely too much like the cat who caught the canary.

"What?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Nothing," he replied nonchalantly. "You missed a spot over there."

"Oh for fucks sake," Hermione snapped. "What?"

"You need to put a passcode on your phone."

"What?" Realisation dawned. "You went through my phone?!" Hermione snarled, shoving the sheets away and stalking towards Malfoy.

"I found it on the stairwell. I had to use it to contact your friend Emma and get all your shit for you. Which, you haven't even thanked me for by the way." He muttered something darkly which sounded suspiciously like 'ungrateful cow'.

"Oh," Hermione deflated, feeling confused. "So why are you looking like the Hippogriff which caught the ferret?"

Malfoy looked positively fit to burst.

"Potter was right, you did have a saved picture of me shirtless on your phone."

Fucking hell.

She was going to avada them both. Jump on their graves, dig them back up, crucio the remains and then avada them again. Just to be sure.

"I knew you gave in too easily," she hissed venomously, hair crackling ominously with magic. "How dare you invade my privacy? You had no right!"

"Oh, like you invaded mine?" He retorted with a bitter laugh. "Spying on me, spiking my drink with veritaserum, tying me up?"

"I didn't… spy on you." Hermione corrected indignantly. A little ashamed.

"What would you call say, all of sixth year then?" He raised an eyebrow mockingly.

"Oh, like you've been a fucking shining example of the moral high ground!" Hermione spat back. "Your sodding Inquisitorial Squad in fifth year… and what would you call, say all of sixth year then?!"

Hermione stepped back and took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling dangerously close to either puking, crying or both.

"This was never going to work," she said quietly. "As soon as we fight we bring up shit from school, the war… There's just too much history, too much bad blood that I don't think we could ever reconcile."

Malfoy said nothing. He just watched her with those unreadable grey eyes, his mouth in a tight line.

Hermione wordlessly summoned her things to her. Unable to think of anything else to say without sounding like a dramatic teenager-well, more than she already had-she nodded awkwardly at Malfoy and strode around him.

She was standing at the front door, shrinking her ballgown to shove into her clutch and summoning her converse when she felt him behind her.

"Granger, wait."

She ignored him. She muttered accio under her breath, wandlessly summoning the offending shoes from her bag. They narrowly avoided zooming into her face. She threw them down in frustration, shoving her feet into them.

"Granger…"

She whirled around furiously. "What do you want, Malfoy?!"

She had barely a second to register his darkened eyes before he tilted her chin up and his mouth descended upon hers. The ballgown and bag fell from her hands, forgotten, as she was pushed up against the door. Draco cupping her face with one hand while the other held her waist. Her lips working of their own accord against his, revelling in the feeling of him kissing her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. Hermione felt like she was floating. Draco's tongue gently ran along her teeth. She allowed him entry with a soft sigh. He growled appreciatively, plundering her mouth expertly.

Sweet Morganna, Draco Malfoy was snogging her, Hermione Granger, senseless.

She moaned softly as he lifted her up the door. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her more deeply and thoroughly than she'd ever been kissed in her entire life.

He pulled away, breathing irregularly. Hermione felt dizzy and a little breathless herself.  
"You really think it could never work?" He challenged, mercurial eyes boring into her golden ones.

Hermione looked at him in shock. "I don't understand…"

"You don't understand?" He snapped. "That's rich coming from the queen of bloody mixed messages. For reasons completely unclear to me, I bloody well fancy you Granger. Even though you're a complete bitch half the time and you make absolutely no fucking sense. One minute you're flirting with me, then you're telling me you accidentally sent this sexy photo to me instead of whoever else you're fucking, then you're tying me up and interrogating me because you think I have this grand conspiracy to murder your fucking parents?!" He snorted and turned away.

Hermione bit back the urge to viciously retort with difficulty. Malfoy had kissed her, confessed his feelings and was now shutting her out. She felt like she was faced with a choice, to hiss and spit and walk out or to swallow her pride and expose her vulnerability as well. But did she want that? They could barely go thirty seconds without fighting.

"That sexy picture was meant for you," she admitted quietly. "I fancied you, and after you sent the picture of you shirtless I guess I wanted to impress you. But I wasn't sure if you were interested and then I accidentally sent the picture and so I freaked out and pretended it was for someone else. It was stupid."

Malfoy eyed her suspiciously.

"And I kept the photo of you because you looked hot," She added embarrassedly, feeling her cheeks flame.

"Naturally."

"Can you quit being a git for like two seconds," Hermione cried in exasperation. "I have no idea how you think this is going to work."

"What, did ' _Relationships: A History_ ' somehow escape your reading list?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Yeah well they bloody well haven't written ' _101 Mudblood responses to being snogged by a former Death Eater_ ' you intolerable git!"

"Don't call yourself that."

"What, mudblood?" She challenged.

Malfoy flinched.

Hermione laughed hollowly. "It's not going away," she remarked, shaking her wrist at him. "If you want to snog me, you're going to have square that one somehow ' _Sanctimonia Vincent Semper'_ ".

"I told you, I don't believe in that anymore."

For a moment they just stared at each other.

"Granger," he began softly. "You're so much more than blood. You're brilliant, you're witty, you're kind. You can argue politics for hours and then flatten someone in half a second. Merlin help whoever crosses you." He chuckled slightly.

"I like the way you wrinkle your nose in frustration when you're reading case notes, the way your curls spring free from your bun, the way you wave your hands in excitement when you're explaining some new discovery."

"You're a million things, Hermione Granger." He said seriously, crossing the floor to stand in front of her. "Now do I have permission to snog you?"

Hermione enthusiastically agreed.


End file.
